


Heart of Stone

by pinkytoothless011



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curses, Douxie is stressed, F/M, Gen, Gumm-Gumm! Strickler, Lots of dramatic irony, POV Alternating, Role Reversal, Slightly aged up Douxie for AU purposes, Strickler is high on bastard juice, forced redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkytoothless011/pseuds/pinkytoothless011
Summary: A cursed Warlord: Stricklander the Savage the Spellcaster, ruler of the Gumm-Gumm's and blight of humanity. Until the battle of Killahead, that is, where the Wizard Merlin curses him and the only way to break the curse is to do an act of selflessness to someone pure of heart.A abandoned apprentice: Douxie would follow Merlin to the ends of the earth. But after being left responsible for a cursed troll Warlord indefinitely his faith in his master is shaken.A scorned Prince: Bular thought his father was invincible once. But after Gunmar finally claws his way out of the Darklands, a couple hundred years earlier than expected, Bular realises he may not want the world to end. And that maybe it's fine the way it is...And then a human is chosen as the Trollhunter and Stricklander, Douxie and Bular find a joint purpose. Because maybe, just maybe he might be the key to everything...Alternate universe where Strickler is a full troll and leader of the Gumm-Gumm's and cursed by Merlin, Gunmar was his first general, and  escapes the Darklands thanks to Unkar the Unfortunate,Bular has many doubts, and Jim is caught between a huge mess as always.
Relationships: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander, Draal/Nomura (Tales of Arcadia), Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan/Zoe, Jim Lake Jr./Claire Nuñez
Comments: 81
Kudos: 47





	1. Who we are

**Author's Note:**

> This idea wouldn't let me sleep, and is inspired by art of Gumm-Gumm Strickler I've seen around Tumblr. I hope you enjoy and leave some comments and Kudos, it'll encourage me to continue!  
> WARNING: Gumm-Gumm's eat some people in this chapter.  
> Chapter summary: Bular, his father and Stricklander and some Gumm-Gumm's raid a human village the night before the battle of Killahead.

Bular hated waiting. It was one of the things that frustrated him to no end. If you wanted something done you did it, why wait? Yet he found himself waiting, with the night waning, wasting precious time, for his father and Stricklander to make up their minds about whether or not to strike a small fleshbag village that was near the cave system the Gumm-Gumm’s were camping in.

A final meal before the battle that would decide the fate of trolls and humans. Bular couldn’t wait, he wanted nothing more than to crush Arthur and his metal clad knights to dust. And it would happen, if what the witch Morgana had said was true and Stricklander would herald the eternal night and bathe the world in darkness. But Bular didn’t trust her, _predictions_. He trusted them about as much as he trusted the Wizard Merlin.

He huffed, his breath misting in the cool night air, as he gazed out at the forest, from where he stood at the cave mouth of the temporary camp of the Gumm-Gumm’s. And caught the two Gumm-Gumm’s stationed at the cave mouth staring at him.

“What are you looking at?” he snarled. The Gumm-Gumm’s eyes widened and they turned away quickly, Bular tried to find their names but they eluded him, all the Gumm-Gumm’s looked the same anyway, and there was no point trying to talk to them, they were just stupid brutes that did as they were told. He was alone. And he liked it like that.

Sighing he reached behind him and drew out one of his jaw boned swords, scrapping it on his arm to sharpen the blade, he was becoming restless and impatient, if his father and Stricklander didn’t come out soon he would go and raid the fleshbag village himself. Stricklander could keep his dumb rules to himself.

Bular was so focused on sharpening his sword aggressively on his arm that he almost didn’t notice the Warlord and General’s approach. “Son.” Gunmar the Black greeted, “We are ready.”

“Finally. I was about to go myself.” Bular grumbled, effortlessly slotting his blade back in its sheath.

“Always so impatient. As ever you think only for yourself and not the greater number, you must consider all angles Bular.” Stricklander rumbled, coming to stand next to his General. To the casual observer Stricklander did not appear nearly as threatening as Gunmar, he wasn’t a massive, intimidating troll with brute muscle power, he wasn’t even that tall, he just about reached Bular’s chin. But the Warlord, or Spellcaster as he was often referred to as, was powerful in a much more subtle way.

It wasn’t that Stricklander wasn’t threatening to look at. His wings were immense black and green edged folds of quivering energy, strong enough to knock down even the most sturdy of trolls. And his runes, glowing yellow lines of magic, were carved all over his lean body, that made his yellow eyes appear razor sharp and dangerous. His horns were just as impressive, heavy ivory backwards facing things that curled out from his skull, he had two pairs, but the second was half hidden by the bristly length of his coal black mane, which ran from his head all the way down to his elbows.

The only thing that lessened his fearsome visage were his long mobile ears, a novelty amount Gumm-Gumm’s, that tended to show his emotions when he was angry, which wasn’t that often, Stricklander was infamously known for being cold and calculating, as emotionless as a blank granite wall.

Bular found it disturbing. But he knew better than to tell that to his face, for all his bravado, Bular was terrified of the winged troll, even Gunmar was sometimes. And that wasn’t because he was their king, or because of his knife sharp intellect, although that could be pretty terrifying, it was because of his magic.

A troll was a being made of magic, true, but they shouldn’t be able to wield it as if they were a master Wizard, it was unnatural. But nevertheless, Stricklander used it.

Of course he had heard the rumours. Every Gumm-Gumm had. That their famed saviour had at one point in his life lived under the same roof as Merlin the immortal. Until he was inevitably betrayed and left to die in the woods. And it was then Gunmar had found him, nursed him back to health and become like a brother to Stricklander. They had joined the Gumm-Gumm army together and risen up the rankings rapidly. Gunmar eventually overthrew Orglak the Oppressor, losing an eye in the process, and ruled the Gumm-Gumm’s for a time. Until Stricklander wanted the throne for himself. He challenged Gunmar and won, making Gunmar his first General.

Yet Gunmar was secretly bitter about his throne being snatched from his claws so quickly and the relationship between the two trolls was forever changed. Basically Bular didn’t trust Stricklander, Morgana, Merlin and any other magic users.

He rolled his eyes at Stricklander’s comment of ‘Considering all angles’ and growled, “Whatever. I just want to kill and eat some fleshbags without thinking every minute detail out.”

He flashed his tusks in a challenging sneer and Stricklander narrowed his eyes, “Watch yourself Princeling, you forget your place.” His eyes then turned to Gunmar, “Where is Aarghaumont?”

Gunmar curled his upper lip at the mention of the third in command, “He declined joining us, he said he would try and convince the trolls of Dwoza to fight with us, he has yet to return.”

Stricklander’s ears twitched, the only outward sign he was suspicious of what exactly Aarghaumont was doing. “He has become soft. When he returns make sure to tell him he had better get himself together for the coming battle, if not I have no use for a weak general.” Stricklander stated coldly.

Bular uncomfortably rolled his shoulders, Aarghaumont was one of the few Gumm-Gumm’s he liked talking to, he didn’t want to hear about Stricklander’s plans on what to do with him, “Let’s just go. We’ve wasted enough of the night.”

Gunmar chuckled, “Patience son, learn it and your enemies will fear you.”

Bular smiled, “They already fear me father.” Stricklander snorted. Bular glanced at the Warlord sharply but he didn’t even blink, instead called to the two Gumm-Gumm’s waiting behind the three fearsome trolls, “Strig, Ash, call the others. We’re leaving.” The Spellcaster demanded.Obediently the two soldiers bowed and padded into the cave to ready the hunting party.

Bular had no idea how Stricklander remembered the Gumm-Gumm’s names, but it made them more eager to follow Stricklander without Gunmar using the Decimar blade he had won from Orglak. It was impressive, Bular had to admit to himself. But also unnecessary, why bother with respect when you could beat fear into them?

There was a sudden crack of thunder and Stricklander glanced up at the sky, his nostrils flaring, “Rain is coming, we should attack now. The fleshbags won’t know what hit them.”

Bular thumped his tail on the ground, “Finally.” He muttered as the hunting party emerged from the cave. Now they were twenty six, a more than adequate number for a strike on a isolated village.

They set out, silently stalking through the overgrown shrubbery and weaving in-between thick oak trees until the light of fires came into view. The village, if you could call a bunch of mud huts surrounded by a wall that, consisted of about one hundred humans.

More than enough for everyone. Bular pitied the rest of the Gumm-Gumm’s, they wouldn’t be feasting on anything as substantial as human meat. Once out of the dense forest Stricklander slowly spread his wings, the leathery membranes stretching to their impressive full extent, the smattering of holes and tears in the edges a patchwork history of fights won and lost. Stricklander glanced at his waiting squadron of hungry Gumm-Gumm’s and whispered in a gravelly growl, Wait for my signal and then let us feast.” And with a powerful thrust of his wings he was in the air, the downbeat pushing Gunmar and Bular back.

His form soon became a blur of black and green and then he dived into the heart of the village. There was a hushed silence for a minute and then a flare of golden mage fire lit up the surrounding forest. That was the signal.

The Gumm-Gumm’s charged, Bular dropped to all fours and barrelled ahead of the other trolls, his father included, the familiar blood lust rising in his gullet. The village came into view and Bular quickened his pace, smashing through the humans flimsy defence wall with a booming roar. Immediately a male human dressed in leather armour lunged at the dark prince with a barbed spear.

Bular easily batted the weak weapon aside and grabbed the man by an arm, lifting him into the air to inspect. Bular snorted, savouring the scent of fear on the human before biting his wailing head off with a satisfactory crunch of bone and gristle. He dropped the body and made quick work of it, instead of sating his hunger it merely made it into a living thing inside his stone body, demanding more to fill him.

Bular looked around, Gumm-Gumm’s were everywhere. Eating, fighting and burning the village simultaneously. At this rate there wouldn’t be any left for him.

Scowling, Bular plodded through the blood splattered and muddy ground, managing to kill and eat another two fleshbags with leather armour and stealing another from a lazy Gumm-Gumm who had a horde of bodies. In all this time Bular only saw his father in passing, clutching a screaming female fleshing in his claws.

Bular found eating female humans and whelps unsavoury. Mainly because of fleshbag children looking like troll whelps, with their large eyes and clumsy limbs they could almost be considered cute. He only ever ate females if they attacked him, which was rare.

Anyway, every Gumm-Gumm had their preferences, but Bular did notice those who supported Gunmar , secretly of course, tended to follow his eating habits, while those loyal to Stricklander followed his. Bular was appalled to realise he was more alike to Stricklander in this regard.

The Warlord only ate warrior humans, he claimed it was because females tasted too sweet and children didn’t have any meat on them but Bular suspected Stricklander found it as unsavoury as him. But he wasn’t foolish enough to say such a thing out loud. He sighed, shaking his head and sniffed deeply, searching for another fleshbag to sink his tusks into.

After a minute or two of sniffing Bular caught a scent. Male, and from the smell, injured. Smiling triumphantly he stalked purposely after the scent, leading him away from the fires and trolls and screams, back towards the gate he had trampled in his haste to get inside the village.

Bular stealthily dropped to all fours, creeping closer to a limping man, his leg leaving a trail of blood on the ground. Bular licked his tusks, this was too easy. With a victorious shout he barrelled the man over and lifted him up slamming the fleshbag into a cracked wall. The human gasped, the whites of his eyes showing, a stark contrast to his soot covered face and grimy black beard and mane, _hair_ , Bular corrected himself. He didn’t bother trying to put a name to whatever it was the human was wearing. Inwardly shrugging, Bular prepared to kill the human, but a weak and terrified voice calling out stopped him.

Bular peered over his shoulder and saw a tiny fleshbag whelp gazing out from the safety of the forest. Safe thanks to Stricklander’s dumb rule about letting humans who had escaped the village go and not wasting time and energy trying to catch every single fleshbag. So that whelp was being incredibly foolish. Well, no matter.

And then the whelp cried, “Father!” Bular froze, glancing at his prey and then the child. It almost reminded him of himself, in wanting his father’s approval. But this was completely different, why was he even hesitating? His grip tightened and the human yelled, “Go! I’m sorry son.” He closed his eyes, stopped struggling and awaited his fate.

Bular roared...

...And released the man, who thudded awkwardly to the ground. “Get out of my sight before I change my mind.” Bular snarled in a dangerous rumble. The man scrambled up, staring at the Gumm-Gumm prince in incomprehension before running away.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Bular hissed, watching as the human embraced his whelp and then slipped into the woods together. He can’t have just let a human go. What was he, a human loving pacifist troll? _Why doesn’t father ever embrace me like that?_ A jealous, bitter part of him whispered. Bular shoved it down in irritation. It almost made him want to chase after the fleshbag and eat him.

His father didn’t even brush foreheads or pat his shoulder, let alone hug. Bular couldn’t remember the last time Gunmar had shown him any affection and it hurt. Not that he ever let anyone see how much it affected him. All he knew was that it made him weak enough to spare a fleshbag, a creature that was prey, food and occasional pest. Bular snorted, never mind, he was anyway feeling sick.

Something about humans always disagreed with his stomach. He loped away, just as the sky opened up, sending a deluge of rain to the ground and flattening Bular’s mane to his back, not sparing the human and his whelp another second of thought. He made his way to the centre of town, or what remained of it, nothing was left except a pile of rubble and a few remains of dead humans.

To his surprise Stricklander was standing there, fingering something small and shiny in his talons. Bular had a feeling he was infringing on something private and silently edged away, out of sight but still watching from behind the side of a crumbling mud shack.

The object in Stricklander’s talons looked like a silver chain, with a bird shaped pendent, delicate and human made. Why would the scourge of mankind have something so obviously created by a fleshbag?

Stricklander sighed, his wings dropping and dragging against the ground like a great leathery cape as he gazed up at the smoke shrouded night sky. He huffed and tucked the silver chain into a pocket seen into his loincloth, the protective scale armour that protected his thighs clinking softly.

Bular didn’t understand what he had seen. Surely Stricklander wasn’t displaying a moment of weakness? He growled, as he suddenly realised just how dead he would be if discovered to be spying on the Warlord of the Gumm-Gumm’s.

He backed away and something crunched beneath his feet. Stricklander’s head shot up, his nostrils flaring as he turned to face Bular’s hiding spot, his runes flaring a brilliant gold, his black pupils consumed in yellow as he snarled, “Come out Bular, I know you are there.”

Bular froze, wondering frantically where on earth his father and fellow Gumm-Gumm’s were as stepped out from his hiding spot, quickly dropping to his knees in a submissive bow, “My lord. Forgive me, I didn’t see anything I swear.”

Stricklander came closer, red, human blood smeared across his face like some barbaric war paint, making him appear ten times as savage. “Trolls only ever say that when they have seen or heard something Princeling. Do not try and device me.” He spat, magic crackling around his form like lightning.

Bular’s eyes widened slightly and he rasped softly, “We all have our moments of weakness.” Wrong thing to say! His mind howled at him as Stricklander snarled, his mane bristling and wings rising. Bular had finally gone too far and was about to pay the price for being so insolent. Never mind he was Stricklander’s second in command and son of his first. Gunmar probably wouldn’t care anyway.

And it was precisely at that moment his father arrived, freshly skinned human skulls hanging from his belt. He appeared not to notice the tension between Bular and Stricklander, or chose to ignore it. He clapped a heavy clawed hand on Stricklander’s shoulder, “We have feasted well tonight brother. We are as prepared as possible for tomorrow night and the battle against Arthur.” The Gumm-Gumm General rumbled.

Stricklander nodded tensely, his eyes not leaving Bular’s. “We have indeed. Although your son seems to be forgetting his place more and more often.” Bular tensed as his father’s eye turned to him, “Bular. You listen to me, I will not hear of another bout of insolence. You may be my son but you are still a Gumm-Gumm soldier and as such you listen to Stricklander.”

Bular growled, “Yes father.” Gunmar nodded and Stricklander gestured for him to come away from Bular, probably to talk about what a disgrace he was.

Bular didn’t care, all he wanted right now was to curl in his nest, out of the rain and go to sleep. And not think about sparing fleshbags or why Stricklander had a silver, human made chain, or think of his father’s coldness.

The coming battle would need all his frustration, confusion and anger.


	2. Battle cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stricklander gets annoyed by Merlin in his sleep and prepares for war, although the battle of Killahead does not go to plan...

Stricklander dreamed he was in a forest.

It was dusk, and he was walking under the relative safety of broad leafed oak trees, the branches sighing softly in the cool breeze. It would be dark soon and then he wouldn’t have to move so cautiously, avoiding the patches of warm, honey coloured light that would make his stone flesh sizzle.

He raised his head, sniffing the air. He knew this particular forest. It had once been his home, a long time ago.

He remembered a little human child and his dragon familiar chasing him through these very trees, he remembered a stern but kindly Wizard and a woman with magic so very similar to his own. He remembered a small homely cottage were magic was simply a part of life and not hunted to extinction.

He thought of the boy briefly, he would be still young, he had stopped aging at nineteen and he would remain so for a few thousand years still. He must be approaching around two thousand now. He shook himself, dispelling the nostalgic memories and trampled onwards, the night air teasing out knots in his mane. A few fireflies danced in front of his eyes briefly and he swatted them away with a small growl.

The fireflies flitted away and turned green, congregating into the shape of a man. The fireflies slowly faded away and Stricklander was staring at a old man dressed in glimmering emerald armour, a staff in one hand.

Merlin.

The Wizard did not seem surprised to see him, he merely raised an eyebrow, “Ah. I thought I felt your presence lingering in my forest. You always were so sentimental, I’m surprised we have not crossed paths sooner.”

Stricklander now also remembered how this forest held some of his darkest memories. Merlin had betrayed him and left him for dead here. If it hadn’t been for Gunmar he would have certainly died. His runes flared to life, casting a sickly yellow light on Merlin, “Get out of my head Wizard.” He rumbled, the familiar anger and hurt at even the thought of Merlin flaring to life.

Merlin rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh, tapping the staff of Avalon gently on the earth as he came closer, “This is no dream and you can’t expel something if it was never there to begin with. We are not here physically but we _are_ both here spiritually, it is known as astral projection. I never got round to teaching this to you myself, but it appears you’ve figured it out anyway.” There was something rueful and wishful in the Wizards eyes that caused Stricklander’s anger to burst out of him in a roar and for him to pierce Merlin through with the talons on his right hand.

Nothing happened. The talon had gone straight through the Wizard as if he were a ghost. He withdrew his hand from Merlin with a snarl of frustration, bitter he had succumbed to rage like one of his dumb, brute Gumm-Gumm soldiers.

Merlin tsked, even waving a finger at him like he was some simple minded child. “I’m afraid you can’t hurt me. Even though I know nothing could make you happier than to have vengeance on me. This _has_ to stop. Your anger and hurt will result in the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands, in this upcoming battle, it’s madness!”

Stricklander laughed hollowly, it was not a nice sound. “You think I care? The more weak willed fleshbags who die the better. Humans have hunted us down like animals for too long. They have hunted down your kind as well, yet you lay down at their feet and serve them like a dog.”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed, “I am doing what has to be done, Arthur is a good man. He cares about every single one of his troops, which is more than I can say of you.”

Stricklander shook his head, “I treat them well enough. But as I said, those who are weak should die, be it human or troll.” He spat.

Merlin sighed, for a second he seemed his actual age, the weight of all his years heavy on his face. “I see. Then you leave me no choice, you are too full of hate to be reasoned with. Whatever happened to the troll who was convinced harmony could be possible between humans, Wizards and trolls?”

Stricklander’s runes flickered, “He died the day you took him into the forest, betrayed him and left him for dead. All because you saw darkness in his future. You could have prevented it, but instead you gave him the final push to take the plunge into the dark. _You_ made me like this.”

Merlin huffed, “I didn’t make you like this. You always had a choice. And I’ve hated myself for betraying you, but if I hadn’t done it the future would be a very different place and it would not be for the better.”

Stricklander snarled, “I cannot stand your cryptic ways, Wizard, that was not an answer, it was an excuse. At the coming battle I will find you and I will kill you.”

Merlin laughed loudly, “Ha! Kill? I would be surprised if you managed to scratch me, whelp. Send my regards to Morgana when you get back will you?” At the flare of fury in Stricklander’s eyes Merlin nodded absently, “Yes. I know all about my second errant apprentice being alive and with you Gumm-Gumm’s. You should know by now I know _everything_.” And he knocked the staff of Avalon against Stricklander’s chest.

The Warlord flinched, surprised at the audacity of the Wizard, but before he could make a move light engulfed him, he turned away, one wing upraised...

...And woke up in a tangle of bed furs.

He growled, savagely tearing the plush pelts with his talons and tusks in a show of heated frustration. But it made him feel a little better nonetheless. Especially after his encounter with Merlin. Or rather Merlin’s spirit.

He aggressively kicked the torn furs off of him and staggered upright, resting his forehead against the cool stone of his cave. It was little more than a craggy hole with a few dim, glowing stones in the walls and a few chests that held Stricklander’s armour, personal belongings and a variety of magical ingredients for his experiments and dabbles in dark magic. Adequate enough. But unbearably claustrophobic right now.

He preferred open spaces, he was after all a creature of the air. But as it was still day he couldn’t go outside. So that left prowling around his camp.

Shooting the pitiful cave a sour look Stricklander padded out of his refuge. The torches burning in the sconces along the walls had died down to flickering ashes. With a wave of his hand the flames danced back to life, startling the four Gumm-Gumm’s who had been guarding his den to hastily straighten out of their sleepy slouches.

Stricklander glared at them and they quickly bowed, submissively lowering themselves to their knees. He snorted, mentally reminding himself to give the Gumm-Gumm’s a disciplining about shirking guard duty in favour of taking a nap. He had not become what he was by being complacent.

He continued on his way, making frequent stops to talk to some of his solders and check in on the recently wounded, even healing a few of the more seriously injured, he would need every last Gumm-Gumm in the coming battle.

Eventually he came to the outskirts of the main camp and heard the soft sound of someone humming a lullaby. It could only be one person. He hesitated and then followed the sound.

He entered a cave that was far larger than his own and littered with all sorts of magical apparatus; parts of dead animals, human and troll skeletons, pieces of jewellery, and dusty books. Morgana was in the centre of the cave, floating in the air amidst the curios, legs folded and her golden armour gleaming.

Her pronged helmet was absent and she cradled a small, grey whelp with four pairs of stubby horns in her lap. A changeling, he surmised, based on its spindly form and glowing yellow eyes. Stricklander sighed, “What are you doing witch?” so far her experiments, as she liked to call them, had been fairly unsuccessful. He was resigned to letting her do what she wanted though, having her as an ally was invaluable.

And having someone who shared a similar history with a certain backstabbing Wizard.

Morgana looked up with a radiant smile, “I’ve done it. My first successful changeling.” She cooed, stroking the whelp between his horn stubs.

Stricklander came closer, glowering down at the grey whelp, who whimpered and pressed itself closer to Morgana. “Prove it.” He challenged.

Morgana rolled her eyes and gestured to an horseshoe that had been lying on the ground near his feet. Stricklander dutifully grabbed it and handed it to the witch. Morgana touched it to the whelps forehead and with a wail and crackle of blue light it changed into a human baby.

He recoiled, his mane bristling. He had not thought it was possible to create a troll that could turn into a human. It was wrong, unnatural, _impure_. Yet he could also see the use of such a creature. As a spy and assassin that could go places no troll could go. “It’s an abomination.” Stricklander said coldly.

Morgana tutted, “No abomination, Stricklander. This changeling is our future, if it wasn’t for Gunmar’s assistance-,”

“ _Gunmar_ is involved in this!? He was under strict orders not to engage with you, only I.”

Morgana’s eyes flashed dangerously, “You do not control me. I am only here so I can have my revenge on Merlin and my brother. That, and the fact you know just as much as I what it is like to be betrayed by those we trusted most. Or have you forgotten our shared past?”

Stricklander bared his tusks, his wings rising threateningly, “That was a lifetime ago Morgana, we are different creatures now.”

Morgana smiled sweetly, “Why don’t you go and have a chat with Gunmar then? It wouldn’t do for there to be tension so close to the battle.”

Stricklander turned away in disgust. Wizards, they were all _insufferable_.

He found Gunmar near the entrance to the cave system, a strategic distance from the encroaching sunlight of the evening heat. Gunmar wasn’t doing anything, he was merely standing still, complementing the brightness of the day.

“Do you ever wonder how the sun feels?” Gunmar rumbled, having sensed Stricklander’s approach.

“Painful I suppose.” Stricklander smirked, knowing full well that wasn’t what Gunmar meant.

He decided then that he wasn’t going to cause unnecessary strife the day before war.

Gunmar sighed in annoyance, turning to face him. The black Gumm-Gumm general was massive, far larger than him but he wasn’t daunted. He was in charge, not Gunmar. Size did not matter.

“If the sun did not burn us.” Gunmar clarified.

Stricklander wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, “A bit sentimental today are you not?”

Gunmar growled, “You are one to talk about sentimentality. At the village you didn’t eat a single female fleshbag.”

He stiffened, “I do not need to validate my preferences to you.”

Gunmar tilted his head, showing his tusks in a approximation of a smile. “Not even to a brother?”

Stricklander frowned, “They look too fragile, too gentle, to eat. At least the males put up a fight.”

“I see.” Wordlessly Gunmar was saying he was becoming soft. It was there in his body posture, the curl of his lip. If he let that slight go it would only confirm it. Stricklander preferred his subjects to be loyal and want to fight for him, not to serve out of fear. But sometimes acts of force were better at putting a Gumm-Gumm back in their place.

His wings snapped out as he used his magic to lasso one of Gunmar’s wide horns, forcing him closer. Another tendril of magic wrapped around his thick neck as Stricklander hissed, “Do not question my strength, _brother_. _I_ am the one who bested you in the fight for the throne. You would be wise to remember that.”

Gunmar rubbed his throat as Stricklander released him. For an instant the powerful Gumm-Gumm general had looked almost scared. After all Stricklander’s magic was almost unheard of among trolls. Of course a troll was a being made of magic, but they didn’t _do_ magic. Not like Stricklander did. Then again he did a lot of unheard of things.

He folded his wings tight to his back, “Get my army ready, we are about to go to war.”

The night came painstakingly slowly, a dark veil that gradually fell across the land, swathing it in shadows. The Gumm-Gumm army had gathered outside the caves already, despite the still lingering sunlight, and were getting themselves ready for a battle that would leave casualties on both sides.

Hopefully _substantial_ casualties on the human side.

Stricklander stood on a raised outcropping of rock standing above his army with Gunmar and Bular standing to his right and left respectively. He regarded his army carefully, they were all standing in neat, orderly rows, parlok spears at the ready, expectantly watching their leader. They were all individuals under their identical black and green armour, he knew that from his regular interactions with them. Yet right now they were faceless, nameless, pawns in the bigger scheme of things. But they were scared and Stricklander wanted them to be fearless, hence the need for a speech from their exalted leader.

He spread his wings and the Gumm-Gumm’s all simultaneously banged their spears on the ground. He cleared his throat and declared, “Tonight we go into battle. For some it will be for the last time, for others it will be merely the first of many battles in this war against humanity. Tonight we begin our advancement upon the fleshbags who would have us destroyed and hunted down like animals for doing nothing more than surviving. A new world in which even the sun itself will not hinder us! We go towards victory!” he cried out, smiling as the crowd roared their approval.

They would be none the wiser to the thin layer of Persuasion that tinged his words to dispel doubts the Gumm-Gumm’s may be harbouring. It even affected Gunmar and Bular, who both echoed the Gumm-Gumm’s with cheers of their own.

Pleased with the result Stricklander stepped down from the raised ledge, his two generals right beside him. He stopped at a large, ornately carved chest and turned to Bular, “Make sure the army is ready to move out on my command Bular. Gunmar, help me with my armour.” He nodded to the nearby chest.

Bular grimaced, “Sure. But what about Aarghaumont? He has yet to return. And your witch isn’t here either.”

Stricklander bit back the urge to snarl and said levelly, “Forget about him. He is either captured or killed and Morgana is not my witch, she will come when she comes. Now do as I say.”

Bular huffed, folding his arms in contempt but did as he was told, stomping off with his tail dragging in the dirt. Gunmar sighed, “He becomes more headstrong with every century, I fear soon even I will be unable to control him.”

Stricklander flicked one ear, “Funny, that reminds me of someone.”

Gunmar playfully shoved his shoulder with a low growl before dragging the ornate chest closer to him and flicking it open with one claw, revealing Stricklander’s black, bronze scaled armour. “I still do not understand why you need to appear more threatening than you already are, brother.” Gunmar commented.

Stricklander scoffed, “You know it’s not for that reason. I specifically designed this set of armour to amplify my magic, if it inspires fear, all the better.”

Gunmar huffed a laugh, “There is always an overcomplicated reason for everything that you do.”

“Naturally.” Stricklander grinned as Gunmar picked up the black and bronze full body chainmail suit. The moment it touched him it slipped all over him like a oil spill, hugging close to his lean form. Gunmar took out his black chest plate next, helping Stricklander into it and then tightening it from the back.

Stricklander rolled his shoulders and the spikes that rested inside the neck part of the chest piece shot out, encircling his neck in bristling bronze. Stricklander used his magic to attach his arm and leg armour, they needed to be at the Killahead bridge soon.

Finally Gunmar handed him his helmet.

The faceplate was retracted for now and the top was adorned with a crown of small spikes tipped with gold. He fitted it over his head carefully, his horns making it slightly awkward, but he managed.

He shared a smile with Gunmar before reaching a claw up and pressing a small indentation on the half helm’s side. Instantly the face plate activated and immediately he felt a surge of raw power thrum through his limbs, invigorating him. He was ready.

The face plate was simple, it’s only adornment being aesthetically added yellow, narrowed eyes and black ridges that ran from his nose to his chin. It was a visage he had become infamous for, not many humans or ‘good’ trolls had seen him without his armour and he liked it that way. Fear could come up with more frightful imaginings if how he actually looked like.

He turned to Gunmar, “Let’s go. We are ready.” He rumbled, his voice echoing hollowly due to the metal helmet.

Their enemies were already waiting for them.

Stricklander’s army on one side and Arthur’s on the other.

For a few minutes both sides stood still, watching each other. King Arthur was at the front of his impressive army, on horse back, along with his pathetic Knights and, to his immense surprise, the trolls of Dwoza.

Accompanied by Merlin, of course, and his remaining apprentice, Douxie. His heart clenched but Stricklander ignored it. It didn’t matter if he had seen the boy grow up, he was just as much of an enemy as Merlin.

There was two others standing by Merlin he did not recognize. A girl in purple armour with a young troll in black and red armour. Curious. But unimportant.

He raised a wing and then pointed it down in one swift movement. Immediately Gunmar barked an order and several of the Decimared Gumm-Gumm’s curled into balls and shot across the field, straight into the surprised human army.

The eerie silence was broken and the two armies charged each other. Stricklander took to the sky and plunged straight into the thick mass of knights mounted on war horses. He roared and with a lash of magic obliterated the four nearest horsemen into ashes instantly. Sending the remaining horses into a blind panic. But that didn’t stop Arthur from masterfully taking control of his steed and urging the animal to charge him, Excalibur held out at the ready like a lance.

Stricklander easily stopped the blade piercing his chest plate with a pulse of raw magic, sending it slamming into the ground a few meters away. “You are going to have to do better than that Arthur.” He snarled, wings crackling with energy.

The human king reined his nervous horse in, his ice blue eyes determined, “My strength of will is enough to beat your dark magiks troll.”

Stricklander smiled from behind his helmet, “Even the magic of your sister?”

Arthur’s brows furrowed, “My sister is-,”

“Still alive, brother.” Morgana called from behind him. Arthur turned, his face draining of colour as he saw the witch float down from the sky.

Stricklander used that moment to go invisible and like a ghost leave the siblings without either noticing. Morgana deserved a chance to get her revenge on her betrayer herself. Just as he did.

Merlin would pay.

He slipped in-between unsuspecting Gumm-Gumm’s and humans alike, now and then killing an enemy that got in his way. By now the fight had escalated thanks to the surprising presence of the Arcane Order and the unwelcome addition of Merlin’s _champion_. Gunmar was fighting her, but as he seemed to be holding his own Stricklander saw no need assisting him, finding Merlin was his goal.

And then he finally spotted him. Darting into the surrounding forest like the coward he was.

He snarled and his glamour dissolved from his form as he barrelled through terrified humans, and the trolls of Dwoza they were allied with, in his eagerness to reach Merlin.

Frustratingly, the Wizard managed to stay ahead of him in the forest, using his smaller size to wind effortlessly through the trees. Until they reached the ruins of a troll town.

Merlin was waiting for him, standing there in the middle of the destroyed, stone buildings, arms clasped behind his back with a thoughtful expression on his face, at Stricklander’s approach he looked up sadly, “What has become of us? We fight for what we think is right, doing horrendous deeds in the process and nothing changes. In this regard we are very much alike, Stricklander.”

He growled, “We are _nothing_ alike, Wizard.” He stepped closer, “The age of mankind is at an end.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, severely unimpressed, “Is that so? Did it ever cross your mind I was stalling and just needed you in the right place to trap you?”

Stricklander stiffened in alarm, he had fallen for a trick! Merlin had known he would be blinded by rage and want nothing but revenge. He spread his wings, ready to fly away and suddenly desperate to re-join the battle. But Merlin slammed his staff on the ground, the magical runes on the ground that had been hidden by a thin layer of dirt flaring to life, glowing a brilliant green.

They surrounded him, humming with potent power that was already sapping his strength. Stricklander roared his anger, slamming his fists against the invisible magical ward. It held. But it wouldn’t for long, not if he kept at it with his magic. Merlin however wasn’t going to wait for him to break his spell.

“Hisirdoux, now!” The Wizard shouted. Stricklander whipped around, just as Douxie materialized beside him, Archie on his shoulders, about to cast a spell. The boy had been there the whole time, cloaked in invisibility. Something he had taught Douxie himself.

_Clever boy_. Stricklander thought. _But not clever enough._

Before Douxie could bind him Stricklander grabbed the young Wizard by the throat in one lightning fast movement, shoving him against a crumbling wall. Archie tried to attack him and he slammed the small dragon away with a wing.

“Douxie!” Merlin cried, helpless on the other side of the magical ward. Stricklander didn’t know why the Wizard would endanger the boy like this, but no matter. His grip tightened, magic flaring to life in his free hand, ready to end Douxie’s life.

The boy wheezed, hands scrabbling desperately at his hand as he began to lose consciousness. “ _Strickler...please, don’t..”_ he whispered, gazing into the helmets blank, cruel, face plate.

He stopped squeezing. He hadn’t heard that nickname in a _age_. Douxie had struggled to say his full name as a child, struggled to even say his own and Archie’s. So they had come up with abbreviations together.

He couldn’t kill Douxie, he realised in despair. Despite easily killing thousands of humans, trolls and even his own Gumm-Gumm’s he was unable to kill a boy Wizard. Merlin’s own apprentice.

He let Douxie go.

He thumped to the ground, staring up at him, confused yet oddly triumphant.

And then Merlin slammed him with a thousand volts of lighting.

He roared, and fell to the ground, Merlin lassoing him with magic far stronger than his own. He struggled, but he couldn’t break free. And, after a moment of hesitation, Douxie winded his own magic with Merlin’s, until it was like his limbs were frozen in ice.

“This is for your own good. At least you won’t be trapped in the Darklands.” Douxie said shakily.

“What are you talking about!? What are you going to do to me?! You will pay dearly for this Merlin!” he shrieked.

Merlin smiled sharply, “I am going to curse you.” And before he could so much as howl his bitterness and fury and kill Douxie after all, Merlin pointed the staff of Avalon at his chest and blasted him with a stream of white hot magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Douxie's perspective and Stricklander dealing with his curse and after that the canon timeline will start... So these first three chapters are actually an extended prologue.


	3. Lost cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Douxie deals with a cursed Stricklander after Merlin dumps Douxie with responsibility for him, and learns a few unsavoury facts about Stricklander and Merlin along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wonder if anyone has figured out what Strickler's curse is, because this chapter reveals it...;)  
> Mainly dialogue in this one, basically Douxie arguing with Merlin and Stricklander and not really getting anywhere.

When Stricklander had grabbed Douxie about the neck and slammed him into a crumbling wall he had been prepared to face his death. He had thought, no _knew_ , he was going to die, staring up into the reflective surface of Stricklander’s helmet and seeing nothing but his own face, wide eyed and terrified.

His hands had scrambled desperately at Stricklander’s gauntlets, searching for a weak point that was simply not there. He had managed only to squeak, “ _Strickler...Please...don’t do this.”_ In a last ditch effort to throw the Warlord off.

Miraculously it had worked. Stricklander’s whole body had tensed, proof that the troll Douxie had known as a child was still in there, buried deep. Stricklander then dropped him unceremoniously to the ground with a raspy growl of befuddlement.

Apparently Stricklander was just as surprised as Douxie about sparing his life. Relieved, he rubbed his throat, on hands and knees as he fought to regain his breath. Maybe he could reason with him. Try and understand why Stricklander was so hell bent on the destruction of humanity. The troll he had grown up with had always been rough around the edges, yet he had also been gentle and loving, despite these moments being few and far between. What had driven him to attack Merlin?

He didn’t have time to voice his questions as Merlin shocked Douxie by callously shooting lightning into the stock still Warlord. He roared, his wings quivering as with a thump he fell to his knees in front of Douxie, head lowered in pain. Merlin wasted no time and immediately wound tendrils of green magic around Stricklander’s chest, pining him in place. Douxie reluctantly followed his Master’s act, quickly stumbling upright, his magic glowing warm blue to Merlin’s cold green.

It took every ounce of his strength to keep the magical chains in place and only Archie’s warm presence at his side kept him on his feet. Stricklander struggled mightily, his screams of anger and frustration bloodcurdling as he swore vengeance on Merlin, Douxie and every miserable fleshbag allied with them. It was all to no avail. Douxie heard himself whisper faintly, “This is for your own good.” He knew Merlin was about to curse Stricklander.

He just didn’t know the specifics of the spell, he could only surmise it was something to do with either making Stricklander sleep for all of eternity or turn him into something weak and harmless. It was too dangerous trapping him in the Darklands with Gunmar and his army. Stricklander would more than likely escape within a few centuries, that was how powerful he was. And it would only make him more determined to wipe humanity out once and for all.

Douxie didn’t feel any regret, the Stricklander he had known had perished a long time ago, sparing Douxie had been a stumble, nothing more. He gritted his teeth together, the strain of using his magic so intensely taking its toll on him.

And then Merlin raised the staff of Avalon, pointing it at Stricklander’s heaving chest and blasted him with a stream of powerful, almost white magic. Stricklander’s howl was loud enough to wake the dead.

He stretched his wings out to their widest extent, the trembling membranes touching the trees, as if ready to leap into the air and escape. But he wasn’t going anywhere. The white burst of magic crackled along his body, tearing his dark armour from him and turning it to dust. The white light surrounded his form fully, bathing the clearing in brilliantly bright light, Douxie shielded his eyes from the glare, squinting in disbelief as he watched Stricklander start to shrink.

Douxie watched, perplexed, as Stricklander’s huge, imposing wings collapsed in a swirl of magic, his horns residing into his skull and disappearing as he became smaller and smaller, until he was about the same height as Merlin. His still glowing form crumbled to the floor, limbs splaying out awkwardly. Merlin summoned a thick, quilted blanket out of thin air, which was unceremoniously dumped over the considerably smaller Warlord, hiding him from view as the white magic slowly faded.

Douxie was only half aware that the magical chains that had bound Stricklander had faded out of existence. He was not even aware that Merlin had dispelled the safeguard bubble from around Stricklander’s prone form. He was too busy staring at the lumpy blanket that hid Stricklander’s changed body from view. He was only roused from his stupor by Merlin smugly swaggering up to the unconscious Warlord, beckoning Douxie and Archie to come with him.

Douxie stood rooted in place until Archie shoved at his legs, when it did nothing to move him his familiar turned into a bear and easily pushed Douxie next to Merlin, who harrumphed disapprovingly at him. He gulped nervously as Archie lowered his snout to sniff the lump under the blanket. “Well, he’s not dead.” He observed, changing back to his cat sized dragon form.

Merlin huffed, “Of _course_ he isn’t dead! It would take a lot more than just the two of us to kill him, hence cursing him, far less messy and as Stricklander was the main adversity and now he is out of the fight, victory is assured for us.”

Douxie had trouble sharing his master’s sentiment, he kicked a corner of the blanket covering Stricklander and couldn’t stop himself asking curiously, “What exactly have you cursed Stricklander _as_?”

Merlin smiled, “See for yourself, Hisirdoux.”

Douxie and Archie exchanged grim looks. “Go on Douxie.” Archie urged, curiosity glinting in his round golden eyes. Shooting his familiar an unhappy glare he crouched down and gingerly took a corner of the blanket in his quivering fingers yanking it away in one quick movement. What lay beneath it was something so startling and unexpectedly clever, not to mention a feat of _incredibly_ complex magic, that Douxie had to cover his mouth to prevent a guffaw of laughter that was sure to be on the hysterical bent.

Archie tried and failed to keep a straight face, “He is going to absolutely love this when he wakes up.” He said gleefully.

Douxie shook his head, “No. He’s _really_ not. I can’t-this is... What have you done?!” he moaned, anxiously pulling the blanket up to hide the very naked form of what-had-once-been-Stricklander, his ears aflame.

Merlin smirked, like a cat that had gotten _all_ the cream. “It’s quite poetic, is it not? I’m sure it will not be lost on Stricklander.” Douxie groaned loudly, his hands clutching at his hair tightly. The curse being poetic was an understatement. It was down right devious. Stricklander would one hundred percent have an absolute fit. He had been turned into the very thing he sought to destroy, the same kind of being he regularly ate. The creatures he vowed to hunt to extinction for the atrocities they had committed against trollkind.

Merlin had turned Stricklander into a _human_.

And not even a ugly, fat human either, Douxie thought in disgust. Not that Stricklander would see the difference. But still, the fact remained that Stricklander was admittedly good-looking for an almost middle aged man. Honestly Douxie had thought he would be older.

Stricklander was all sharp angles and lean muscle, tall, for a human, and elegantly built, with long, nimble fingers and a narrow waist. His face was much like his body, sharp cheekbones, an aquiline nose, long lashes and large ears. Fairly similar to his real body actually, Douxie thought idly. Even his hair faintly resembled Stricklander’s once magnificent mane. It was slicked back, reaching just above his shoulders, almost the same length as Douxie’s, and a black as deep as the undersides of a ravens wing.

The only truly remarkable thing about Stricklander’s new body was the thick strand of pure gold hair in his otherwise black, tangled mane. _Remnants of his magic_ , Douxie guessed. _And impossible to get rid off_ he grinned inwardly.

Zoe, his long time friend, maybe eventual girlfriend, had a similar streak in her hair, although it was pink instead of gold. She had tried everything to get rid of it, magic, dye, even tried cutting it out, only for it grow back. Nothing worked. She eventually accepted it, even musing she wouldn’t mind having the rest of hair the same colour. But that was unrealistic. Douxie irritably dragged his mind away from thoughts of Zoe and focused on the present.

The only other distinguishing feature that marked Stricklander out from regular humans was his skin. It was pale, almost ivory white, but that was to expected from a ex-troll, he had never been in the sun before. _He didn't deserve to be_. He thought bitterly.

And then he regained his voice and blurted out in sudden realisation, “Oh god’s. This is _really_ bad. When he wakes up he’s going to kill us!”

Archie batted a paw at Stricklander’s nose, “Like this I don’t think he will be even able to _hurt_ us, let alone kill us.”

Douxie turned to Merlin, “Master, he will still be able to use magic! How is he weakened if he still has his power?!”

Merlin shook his head in disappointment, “Hisirdoux, of _course_ he won’t have his power, right now he is going to be as weak as a kitten. _Far_ weaker than you. It will take decades for him to even relearn the basics of magic and even then, after centuries, he would only ever be at the same level you are currently. I’ve thought of everything. As always.”

Douxie sometimes hated how Merlin literally _did_ think of everything. It would be easier to cope being under his shadow if he was just arrogant.

He looked down at Stricklander’s still form, he looked so helpless. He wouldn’t survive on his own, Douxie was certain of it. “Did you just say _centuries_? How long will he be like this for?”

Merlin laughed, “Until he breaks the curse. I give him a minimum of a thousand years before he manages to escape it.”

Douxie frowned, “Wasn’t the curse turning him human?”

Merlin tapped Douxie’s head with the staff of Avalon, “Have you even been listening to my lessons on spell casting? All curses have conditions, that if met can break them. That’s the whole point of a curse! He will remain human until he does an act of selflessness for someone pure of heart. If not, he can look forward to spending the rest of his life as one of the humans he so despises.”

Douxie forced down a whimper, “So what do we do now?”

“ _We_? There is no we. I must go and deal with Morgana, hopefully the Hisirdoux from the future is more competent in dealing with power hungry Eldritch beings.”

Douxie gaped at Merlin, “Wait. You’re just going to leave me with Stricklander? Aren’t you going to lock him up or something?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I thought I was quite obvious. You will care for and guard Stricklander with your life. I know you can keep him more safe than any cage, he can’t break out from his affection for you Hisirdoux, you should count yourself lucky.”

Douxie’s mouth fell open and he heard Archie hiss a curse. “You deliberately asked me to hide within the force field, didn’t you? Knowing that Stricklander wouldn’t be able to kill me. You _used_ me! I could have died!”

Merlin shrugged, “But you didn’t. Now I really must be going-,”

“You couldn’t have known for certain! You-you put my life on the line...And now you’re leaving me with Stricklander to-to _babysit_ him! How long for?” he demanded.

Merlin sighed, “Until I’m able to return, which might be a very long time.” He admitted. And then he began walking away, back towards the still raging battle.

Douxie yelped, “But-,”

“ _Don’t_ but master me! This is your responsibility now and there’s no avoiding it.” Merlin called back.

“-Master, Stricklander is still naked!”

Merlin paused, “Ah. I thought I had forgotten something.” He half turned and shot a light green pulse of magic at Stricklander, instantly cladding him in a whitish, woollen, long sleeved tunic with a simple, snakeskin belt and pair of grey breeches, with soft, rabbit fur lined boots and a deerskin cape, that replaced the quilted blanket. And, after nodding in satisfaction, Merlin departed, without even so much as a farewell.

The sounds of battle had faded long ago. The sun was rising, Merlin and everyone else who had been present at the battle had gone, thanks to Archie Douxie also knew that the Gumm-Gumm’s, including Gunmar, had all been locked away in the Darklands by Deya.

The battle of Killahead bridge was well and truly over.

And Stricklander had been snoring for hours straight, sleeping right through the climax of the fight and his armies defeat.

While Douxie watched him like a hawk, leaning against a tree with Archie curled up in his lap in his cat form. Together they had managed to carry the unconscious troll-turned-human away from the ruins and deeper into the forest, until the trees surrounded them. And then having dumped Stricklander on the ground, Archie had gone to survey the fight between the Gumm-Gumm’s and Arthur’s army, and Douxie had guarded Stricklander. He hadn’t moved from his spot in all this time, and looking at Stricklander’s peacefully sleeping form he found it hard to find him threatening.

Especially with his mouth half open, drool dripping down his chin and nasally snores coming out of his nose.

And then the snoring cut off abruptly.

Douxie sat up, immediately alert, “ _Archie_.” He whispered. His familiar was instantly awake, ears pricked and fur bristling.

Stricklander opened his eyes slowly, blinking blearily. They were green, the same green as the trees surrounding them, a deep, mysterious hue that held wildness in their depths. Douxie couldn’t imagine them being any other colour.

Stricklander blinked rapidly, momentarily confused, until his sharp green eyes landed on Douxie. He bared his teeth, brows furrowed in anger as he sat up, ready to roar some sort of threat to kill Douxie. But nothing but a dry throated _eep_ came out of his mouth. Stricklander looked absolutely mortified.

He shakily raised his hands so he could see them, revulsion twisted his face as he flexed his fingers. “ _No_.” He whispered. Stricklander froze, clearly appalled at how soft his voice was. Douxie hadn’t expected it to be so warm, it was almost as smooth as honey. Surprisingly nice actually and nothing like the Warlords true, gravelly, timbre.

And then Stricklander reached up with shaking hands to feel his head, his lips trembling when he realised his horns, mane and long ears were gone. He whimpered, actually _whimpered_ , when he felt his back and didn’t feel his wings. The tragic expression on his face was almost enough to make Douxie laugh, but he had enough sense to keep his mouth shut as Stricklander crawled to a small, muddy puddle and peered at his reflection. He wailed in horror, “NO, no, _no!”_

He sat back with a sniff, angrily pulling and scratching at his skin as if hoping to tear it off. Douxie, fearing Stricklander would actually hurt himself, said firmly, “Stricklander, stop. It’s not going to change anything.”

Stricklander paused, as if finally noticing Douxie and Archie watching him, he scowled, “What illusion is this?” he said feverishly, anger making his strand of golden hair crackle with magic.

“It’s not an illusion. Merlin had cursed you to be human.” Douxie said softly.

Stricklander breathed out harshly from his nose as he looked at his hands once more, prodding his pinkie incredulously before pinning Douxie with a baleful glare of hatred, “Curses can be broken. And when I break this-this hideous _mockery_ of a curse, mark my words boy, you will be the first to weather the storm of my fury.”

It would have been a terrifying threat if Stricklander was in his true form, but as a human he just sounded whiney, spoilt and pathetic enough for Douxie to snort derisively, “That actually doesn’t scare me,” he marvelled, “I just watched you snore your head of, sleeping right through your Gumm-Gumm army being locked in the Darklands, and Merlin told me before he left that you’re helpless. You’re going to have to relearn the use of your magic, so you can threaten me all you like but you can’t even _touch_ me.”

Stricklander snarled, making Douxie flinch back, that sounded just plain wrong coming out of a human throat, even if that human was actually a troll. Stricklander’s fingers curled into tight fists, his nails piercing the skin of his palms and leaving small, crescent shaped, red marks. Briefly a flare of golden magic crackled around his clenched fists, but it disappeared almost immediately.

He seemed more infuriated at the small spark than having not been able to reach his magic at all. He grinded his teeth together, eyes wild, “My magic, my _wings_ , my army. Merlin has taken everything from me! I was meant to win, _me_! Not Arthur and _definitely_ not Merlin!” Stricklander said quite pathetically, looking down and noticing for perhaps the first time his clothes.

His expression softened into horrified fascination, as he tilted his head at his boots and even going so far as lifting a corner of his cape and sniffing the leather. Archie snorted and Stricklander jerked his head up, a snarl disfiguring his face, “ _What?!”_ he snapped, nervously touching the side of his breeches.

Archie was about to respond but shut his mouth when Stricklander suddenly froze, his eyes panicked as he felt his breeches, _looking for pockets_ , Douxie realised.

Frantic now, Stricklander searched all his clothing in mounting despair, “Where is it? I _can’t_ have lost it! Not after all this time!” Douxie suddenly understood what had the former troll in such a panic.

He was looking for his silver necklace, one of the only tokens from his life before he came to Merlin and Morgana, from a witch who had befriended and cared for him during his teenage years, Douxie still remembered her name, it was hard to forget when she was part of Wizardry history, Annabeth Crawford, one of the most powerful witches to have ever lived.

Stricklander used to tell him stories about his past when he was a child, incredible tales of danger and adventure that made the much younger Douxie round eyed with awe. So of course the importance of the necklace wasn’t lost on him, especially since Annabeth had died a very long time ago. And it wasn’t from old age. Although Stricklander never did tell him how she died.

Douxie may hate and mistrust Stricklander now but he wasn’t cruel. Just because Stricklander had become evil didn’t mean Douxie had to be spiteful towards him, so he had sent Archie to find the necklace while the troll-turned-human was sleeping. Archie had found the necklace among the smouldering ruins of his armour and delivered it to him.

Now he carefully drew the chain out from one of the many small satchels attached to his belt, fingering it gently before gingerly extending it out towards the still panicking Stricklander, half expecting him to bite his fingers off when he finally noticed what he held.

Stricklander’s face slackened in disbelief, his green eyes relieved. For a moment there Douxie thought he would thank him and maybe even smile at him, like he used to.

Instead he quickly snatched the necklace out of his hand with a snarl.

Anger and disappointment made Douxie do something he normally never did. He lashed out with his magic, shocking Stricklander with a bolt of lightning for his ungratefulness.

Stricklander gave a pained yelp and toppled over, falling backwards, and straight into a patch of encroaching sunlight.

His reaction was instantaneous, despite the sun being utterly harmless to him in his current state, he yelled at the top of his lungs. Loud enough to send birds flying out of trees and for Archie to clap his forepaws over his ears. Stricklander then proceeded to scramble inelegantly back into the shade provided by the oak trees with a hiss, his green eyes glowing faintly.

Well, that was certainly going to be seared into Douxie’s mind for eternity. A feral, Eldritch troll trapped in a human body, experiencing sunlight for the first time. Douxie sighed tiredly, “Stricklander, the sun can’t hurt you.”

Stricklander didn’t answer straight away, instead busying himself with attaching his silver necklace around his neck with trembling fingers, lingering briefly on its bird shaped pendent. And then he said levelly, “If I had gone through life with that attitude I would be dead a long time ago, without your _master’s_ help.” He sneered contemptuously at Douxie, who refused to even flinch.

“You’re not dead though. And now that you’re awake we should get going, I’m sure my _master_ will have given me instructions on what to do until he returns.”

Stricklander laughed bitterly, “Oh, your unwavering faith in Merlin is _so_ amendable, it is so like you Wizard, blindly following him like a sheep to a shepherd. If he told you to go drown yourself in a well I’m sure you would do it.” He mocked, his voice full of spite.

Douxie clenched his jaw, and Archie gently placed a paw on his knee, “Douxie don’t, he’s only trying to wind you-,” he didn’t wait for his familiar to finish and zapped Stricklander with lightning again.

The once powerful troll collapsed to the ground, his body convulsing and face grimacing in pain, utterly helpless and unable to defend himself. It felt surprisingly _good_. He wanted to _hurt_ Stricklander. He wanted him to _suffer_.

“Douxie!” Archie snapped. Douxie blinked, looking down at Archie, he had switched to his dragon form, his eyes wide in horror. He looked over at Stricklander, he was curled in a ball, body shaking and smoke rising from his clothes. Douxie inhaled sharply, what was he _doing_?

He relaxed, letting the lightning fade away, and guiltily watched as Stricklander recovered, slowly sitting up, his back immediately slouching against a tree trunk as he warily watched Douxie. “It seems I was wrong all this time, you do have some gronk-nuts.” He eventually shuddered out, looking weak and utterly exhausted. Douxie felt another stab of guilt, _but Stricklander did kind of deserve it,_ his mind whispered.

Douxie sighed, and was quiet for a few minutes, allowing Stricklander to catch his breath and for him to finally gather enough courage to ask, after centuries of silence, “Why did you do it?”

Stricklander looked up, generally confused, enough so that he didn’t react when the tips of his fingers edged into the sun. “Do what?” he asked guardedly, his shoulders tensing as if expecting Douxie to lash out again, he realised with shame.

“Don’t avoid my question. You know what. Why did you betray Merlin?”

Stricklander blinked and then chuckled softly, it built in volume until he was laughing so hard tears built at the corner of his eyes. He brushed them away with a surprised comment of, “My eyes are leaking, how odd.”

Douxie had enough. He stood up, towering over the still sitting Stricklander and demanded heatedly, “I don’t see what is so funny. Your betrayal impacted all of us. Merlin came back and was like a ghost for years, yet he refused to tell me or Morgana what happened and that led to her beginning to drift towards dark magic and I lost my _brother_.” His voice broke on the last word.

Stricklander’s smile faded. For an instant something like pain and heartbreak flitted across his face, but it was gone in seconds, replaced by a carefully blank mask. Douxie turned away, folding his arms as Stricklander struggled to his feet, cursing his disgustingly weak body and his lack of horns, wings and magic. Douxie ignored his muttered frustrations, if Stricklander was trying to make Douxie feel sympathy for him it wasn’t going to work.

By now the sun had almost reached them in the dappled shade of the forest, yet Stricklander still appeared too scared to risk full exposure to the light. He was afraid and Douxie felt grimly satisfied about it.

Stricklander cleared his throat loudly and Douxie turned to him challengingly, the ex-Warlord was standing awkwardly, back still pressed to the tree trunk, “Well?” Douxie demanded, impatient.

Stricklander sighed, “Douxie, it was not I who betrayed Merlin. Merlin _betrayed_ me. Do you really think I would despise him so much if I was the one to betray _him_?”

Douxie stared at Stricklander, he hadn’t called him boy or Wizard. He had used his preferred name. Archie blinked, equally surprised. Stricklander seemed to realise his slip up as he scowled darkly at him. And then the rest of his words sunk in. “Hold on. You’re saying Merlin stabbed _you_ in the back?”

Stricklander sneered, “What, surprised your beloved master capable of such an act? It was quite literally a stab in the back. He pulled an enchanted knife on me, rammed it straight through my side. The blow should have killed me, but I managed to survive. And vowed revenge on all of humanity for the wrongs it had committed against me and any other with magic in their veins. I assumed you were aware of Merlin’s plans, but apparently not.”

Douxie sat down with a thud, Everything was falling apart, his convictions, his future, his _life_. He took a deep breath. “Ok, that unfortunately makes a _lot_ of sense. I can’t believe Merlin did that to you!” Stricklander smiled, clearly thinking he had pulled Douxie to his side with his sob story, but Douxie glared daggers at him, wiping the smirk off his face, “But that doesn’t mean you start killing off thousands of innocent people, _eating_ them even, because a handful of humans wronged you. How does that make you any better than them?”

Stricklander seemed startled by Douxie’s outburst, he lowered his head, his green eyes shadowed. “I know it doesn’t. But it was like I wasn’t in control of myself, rage and hurt took complete control of me. I’m not excusing my actions, I know what I was doing was wrong, deep down. But I wanted to _hurt_ them, _all_ of them, make them pay. Make _Merlin_ pay,” he sighed, “For what it’s worth, I never ate any women or children, only those who were warriors.”

Douxie somehow believed him, even felt he could understand a little why he had done what he had done. But he really didn’t want to think about Stricklander eating _anyone_. He shook his head, “We don’t have time to go through all this right now, we have to go.”

Stricklander backed away unsteadily, “You don’t tell me what to do boy,” oh great, he was back to being called _boy_ , “I demand to know how to break this curse and then I will-I...” his shoulders slumped, “I don’t know what I will do.” He whispered.

Douxie sighed, “Arch, tell him.”

Archie smiled smugly, “My _pleasure_. Merlin said the only way to break your curse is through an act of selflessness to someone pure of heart.”

Stricklander snorted, “Oh, I may as well kill myself right now! That’s not happening, _ever_. I have yet to meet a pure of heart fleshbag. I don’t think a Wizard counts.”

Douxie pretended not to hear that last part, “No. No killing _anyone_. Definitely not yourself. I’m responsible for you now, so you _do_ what I say and _go_ where I say.”

Stricklander crossed his arms, “You can’t make me. Just leave me to die, some troll will probably eat me, Merlin would love the irony of that.”

Douxie shook his head vigorously, getting up and coming within touching distance of Stricklander, “No. I’m not letting you die, ok? I know there’s goodness still in you, however shrivelled up it is, otherwise you would have killed me when you had the chance. I will not give up on you, not now, not ever. Even if I have to drag you all the way. Face it Strickler, we’re stuck with each other.”

Stricklander smiled and for the first time it was actually genuine. “Fine. Have it your way. But I’m warning you Douxie, I will struggle against you every step of the way. Starting now.” And he plopped to the grassy ground, his cape fluttering behind him.

Archie raised a white eyebrow, “What are you doing?”

Stricklander grinned widely, displaying his teeth in a way that looked seriously creepy, “I am not moving from this spot. You said you would drag me.” He pointed out smugly.

Douxie gritted his teeth together, “You’re such an asshole.” He muttered.

Stricklander merely grinned even wider.

“Ok. You asked for it.” Douxie said. He walked away, into the sun and heard Stricklander audibly gulp.

Archie smirked, “This is going to be fun.”

Douxie glared at him, “Fun for you maybe. Not for me.” He grumbled, before he lassoed Stricklander around the foot with a gentle, blue, rope-like strand of magic, and proceeded to drag Stricklander into the sun with him.

Stricklander grunted, digging his nails into the grass to try and stop his movement, but he wasn’t strong enough. He closed his eyes, whimpering as he left the shade of the trees.

Douxie smiled and called over his shoulder, “How’s the sun my _lord?_ ”

“I hate you.” Stricklander hissed.

There was a lengthy pause as Stricklander was dragged through the forest, Archie walking a safe distance away from the hostile ex-Warlord.

And then he said with heavy reluctance, “Quite nice actually, it’s warm and bright like fire, but not painful. I like it, how peculiar.”

Douxie stopped long enough to wink at Stricklander, “Welcome to being human.”

“When I find a loophole out of this _disgusting_ curse, and I know I will, I will flay the bones from your body, rip that ridiculous bun out of your hair and set it aflame and...”

Douxie groaned inwardly, something told him the next few centuries were going to be an absolute _nightmare_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up... Arcadia, present day, In which Bular messes up not killing Kanjigar and Stricklander and Douxie proceed to panic.


	4. I'm so sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bular and Kanjigar fight beneath Arcadia bridge, nothing new. Only this time the Trollhunter wasn't supposed to die. And Bular regrets lots of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again there's lots of dialogue in this chapter, which was really fun to write as the character dynamics in this are all quite interesting, but it's mainly Bular and Strickler arguing/being assholes to each other.   
> And I seem to be using Bular again to flesh out this world a bit more, hmmmmm.   
> Anyway, enjoy!

_Arcadia, present day..._

“Yield, Kanjigar!” Bular snarled, pushing against the Trollhunter’s sword of Daylight with his own, jaw boned blades, straining against the compact bulk of the other troll, to almost no avail.

He was underneath Arcadia’s stinking bridge, high above the dry canals, the passage of the human’s cars on top of the structure sending shudders down the bridges metal struts. It was a miracle with all the fighting between him and Kanjigar under this bridge that the whole structure didn’t just cave in or break. But it was as sturdy and as boring as his fight. Almost as boring as hearing his father’s rants about finding Morgana and bringing forth the eternal night, to honour Stricklander’s ‘last’ wishes. Bulshigal the lot of it.

And his talk of getting Usurna to force the Trollhunter to open the bridge was just pathetic. Kanjigar would never put himself in a situation that would make that possible. All Gunmar’s talks of ending the world didn’t appeal to Bular. He liked things the way they were. He got to piss off the Trollhunter, Stricklander, the changelings _and_ his father, he got to eat a human every few months and was left to do what he wanted around Arcadia. The town and forest surrounding it was his.

If his father managed to bring about the eternal night all of that would disappear, and the town would become nothing but a heap of burning rubble.

Kanjigar was the real problem. He was so _annoying_ , a painful thorn in his side that couldn’t be removed. The Wizard boy made sure of that, insisting Kanjigar was more useful alive rather than dead. Otherwise Bular was fairly confident he would have already killed the Trollhunter.

Kanjigar snorted, “I will never yield! Not until you and every other Gumm-Gumm are eradicated!”

Bular rolled his eyes. So predictable. Honestly Kanjigar was sounding, as the humans put it, like a broken record. “Have it your way then Trollhunter.” And with a roar he slammed the hilts of his dual swords into Kanjigar’s chest plate, metal ringing on metal as he made Kanjigar stumble back. Bular eagerly pressed his advantage, getting the Trollhunter right where he wanted him. The boy said not to kill him, he never told Bular he couldn’t torture Kanjigar a little.

Grasping the side of the Trollhunter's half helm, Bular pressed his face towards the bright morning sun. On contact Kanjigar howled as his stone skin smoked and Bular grinned before yanking the Trollhunter back in the shade. “Do you yield now? Because I could do this all day, Trollhunter. Go on, give me a reason to continue, I will surely take pleasure from it.”

Kanjigar stiffly shook himself free of Bular’s claws and backed away, his golden eyes frantic. And then they hardened with steely determination, “No. I will not yield, ever. I refuse to allow the amulet to fall into Gumm-Gumm claws again.” He took another step back and Bular’s bravado vanished.The Trollhunter was deadly serious about this.

Bular scoffed, “You really think _suicide_ will prevent my father from destroying Trollmarket? Who will defend this town if you’re dead?”

Kanjigar smiled grimly, “You know as well as I do that the amulet will find a new champion. It always does. My fight may end but the battle will continue.” And with that he took another step back.

Bular’s eyes widened, “NO!” he snarled, claws reaching forward automatically, he didn’t want Kanjigar to die for no damn reason, even if he despised him. But he was too late, Kanjigar fell, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes as he did so, performing the most dramatic death Bular had ever witnessed.

His claws edged into the sun and he hissed, drawing away from the edge of the bridge. Kanjigar just had to be a smug asshole to the very last moment.

He watched as the Trollhunter shattered into a million pieces, as well as all his hopes for living his life without his father out to ruin it for him. _Why did I think having father back_ _was a good thing?_ He thought bitterly as he peered down at the grey rubble that was Kanjigar and knew with certainty that Stricklander was going to murder him.

The worst thing was, it wasn’t even his fault. It was the paranoid, stick-up-his-butt recently deceased Trollhunter's. Which meant Draal would want to kill him even more, great. That idiotic ball of spikes would all but hand himself to Gunmar if the amulet chose him. Bular liked the idea of Draal recklessly following his father to death. But that meant giving up his way of life, which wasn’t going to happen.

Hopefully this would be enough to get Stricklander involved, instead of wasting his time teaching fleshbag whelps history he had lived through. Bular thought it was because the cursed troll liked hearing the sound of his own voice, or, more likely, he was going senile in his old age and actually thought he _was_ human now.

Stupid magical Wizards and their stupid curses, making the most feared troll in the world comfortable with living in the skin of a fleshbag. Bular huffed and retreated away from the rapidly encroaching sunlight, he could make it to the sewers if he left now and await nightfall there alone.

Spitting out a glob of saliva mixed with greenish-yellow blood, Bular lumbered back the way he had come, his mind absently replaying the first time he had met the human Stricklander with his Wizard boy, nearly three hundred years ago, just after Bular made the biggest mistake of his life...

_The streets of Arcadia were empty, quiet, devoid of all life at this time of night. Despite only arriving in this small human town a few months ago, this place was already feeling like home. The few Gumm-Gumm’s who had escaped had settled a nights journey away, in a slightly bigger human settlement. Bular was relieved to get his time alone, he had thought with his father back things would suddenly make sense again. They hadn’t._

_His father didn’t take his imprisonment in the Darklands very well; Stricklander’s death, coupled with the banishment at the hands of Deya the Deliverer, led to the once second in command taking charge of the remainders of the army, with mixed success. Bular could sympathise with the struggle of gaining respect, but he didn’t understand why the eternal night was so important._

_To him it_ _seemed a little stupid. Without the sun, how could anything else living survive? Stricklander had just said that to bolster spirits, he hadn’t meant it literally._

_And when Bular had_ finally _succeeded in getting the Killahead bridge open, only a few elite Gumm-Gumm’s managed to escape, before the newly appointed Trollhunter Kanjigar managed to seal the bridge and lock it away in the deepest vaults of Trollmarket. Unreachable and heavily guarded._

_Gunmar had been displeased to say the least, since serval of the newly liberated Gumm-Gumm’s had been killed, leaving him with only twelve soldiers, not including Bular, the changelings_ _and his two ‘advisors’, the real reason for the dark troll being on the edge of madness in Bular’s opinion._

_It was one of the reasons Bular came to Arcadia, to escape the constant bickering between Dictatious and Kodanth and his father’s plots to end the world. And recently the Krubera Queen, Usurna, had secretly joined the Gumm-Gumm’s, supplying them with intel into Trollmarket with the help of her impure spies, only adding to the bickering. Bular didn’t have the strength or patience to deal with the political mess of the Gumm-Gumm’s, it hurt his brain. Another reason for roaming the back streets of the small human town, trying not to think about anything or anyone._

_Until he was disturbed by a loud crash, followed by a yell and sibilant roar and a flash of blue magic. Bular blinked, what on earth was that? He peered around the corner of the building he was squatting behind and his eyes widened in surprise._

_A Shadow Mephit, it couldn’t have been anything else, was running across the pitted, cobblestone main street, towards where Bular lurked, with a wizard hanging tightly to one of its feet, being dragged on the floor, connected to the little beast with a strand of bright blue magic. The sight was so unexpected Bular could do nothing else than gape in bafflement as the Shadow Mephit whipped around in circles, trying to snap the boy with its mandibles._

_He yelped and yelled over his shoulders, “A little help here Strickler!” Bular frowned, that name sounded very familiar, almost like-no. That was impossible, the Warlord was dead, there was no way he was alive and with a Wizard of all creatures._

_There was the sound of shoes on cobblestone and a considerably older human strolled into view, a bright lock of golden hair at a stark contrast to the black clothes he wore, and also a clear indication of magic. Draped over his shoulders was a lithe black cat with glasses that instantly made Bular’s mouth start to salivate. Humans gave him indigestion but cat’s made delicious meals._

_The older male sighed heavily, “Do I have to?” His voice too was vaguely familiar, as was his tone of amused boredom._

_“YES!” the boy yelled as the Mephit finally tore itself free and turned on him with a rattling chitter, causing the Wizard to scramble back. The Shadow Mephit clicked it’s mandibles together triumphantly and the older human tensed, about to intervene. Bular didn’t wait a second longer, he was curious about these odd magic users and wanted to talk to them, and had never killed such a peculiar creature as a Mephit before._

_So he slid down to all fours and bunched his legs under him, with a roar springing into the street and grabbing the surprised shadow creature around the neck. It squirmed, biting at his stone skin and Bular laughed, he squeezed tightly but the creature popped out of his grip and tried to slither away._

_Bular lazily hooked it by the tail and then bit it’s head off. A sour, acrid taste filled his mouth and he gagged, spitting it out and cleaning his tongue on his arm in a desperate bid to get rid of the foul taste. “Disgusting! That wasn’t worth saving your life for fleshbag.” He spat, watching the Shadow Mephit dissolve into a bubbling mess of yellow ichor._

_The boy Wizard paled, going almost as white as his shirt and stuttered incoherently. The other one looked surprised yes, but he wasn’t even a little bit scared. He actually came forward, clasping his hands behind his back as he did so. As humans went he wasn’t the most interesting to look at, except for the strand of gold in his hair, but something about the way he was staring at Bular was simply not human, he had no idea why he thought that._

_“Bular,” the man declared as if greeting an old friend, “How surprising, I would have thought your father would keep a tighter leash on you.” He offered a hand down to the frozen boy and he reluctantly took it, allowing himself to be pulled up. The cat on the older fleshbags shoulders was bristling angrily. Bular did his best to ignore it._

_Instead he swelled with indignation, “How dare you speak to me like that, I could crush-,”_

_“No you couldn’t.” The man interrupted, “I am far too powerful to be crushed by a mere Princeling, and this boy, Douxie, is Merlin’s apprentice, you don’t stand a chance if you fight against us.” The boy, ‘Douxie’ grinned nervously, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt as Bular spared him a curious stare before turning to the arrogant human. “Oh? Really? Show me your power then fleshbag.” He sneered and attempted to poke him in the chest._

_Immediately a flare of golden magic, tinged green at the edges, sprung up around the human’s form, pushing him away. For just an instant his shadow_ _changed, looming over Bular, briefly highlighting in gold arching horns and massive wings. Bular stared down at the man in choked horror._

_It couldn’t be, yet there was no doubt in Bular’s mind that this fleshbag was_ not _a human. Not a changeling and not a Wizard. But something a whole lot more powerful and ancient, bound to human flesh in some crude magical way. He backed away from the pretender and sat down with a thump._

_Stricklander smiled and the flames dwindled down from around his body. “Ah, good. You recognise me, finally someone who knows full well what I am.” The menace in his eyes was calculating, predatory and at complete contrast to the boy at his side and cat on his shoulders._

_Stricklander allowed the boy to edge closer to him and not taking his eyes off of Bular, Douxie said; “Um, I’ve know you way longer, and I know exactly what you are.” Bular blinked, did this Wizard have a death wish? He had never seen anyone contradict the_ _Warlord without serious repercussions. Yet Stricklander merely smiled._

_The cat stretched and meowed, “I second that.” Bular snorted, talking cat or not he really wanted to eat the feline. He licked his lips and the cat hissed, it’s form lighting up briefly in gold. When the light cleared the cat was significantly bigger and winged. A dragon, now that was interesting. The dragon-cat growled and Bular growled right back._

_“Stop this nonsense!” Stricklander demanded, shooting a warning look at the cat and then glaring heatedly at Bular. The dragon pressed its ears flat and sulkily jumped onto the human boy’s shoulders. It was enough to jolt Bular into taking a lumbering step forward, as his brain finally registered fully the fact the supposedly dead troll Warlord was not only perfectly healthy but also somehow a fleshbag, accompanied by Merlin’s apprentice, Stricklander’s hated enemy._

_“How is it possible you’re alive?! This must be some trick!” he demanded at the same time Douxie tugged one of Stricklander’s sleeves and asked, “We shouldn’t be entertaining him! Why aren’t we fighting?”_

_Stricklander growled, yanking his arm free and stepping closer to Bular, he was tiny in comparison to him, yet he practically vibrated with power. “No more questions, I want absolute silence from both of you.” Bular obeyed and sat back down with a thud, while Douxie gulped nervously. “Thank you. Bular, I never died, Merlin cursed me at the battle of Killahead, to be, well, this.” He gestured to his fleshy body with a grimace, “I really do wish this were a trick. And as to why myself and Douxie are not fighting Bular here, well, if he wanted to try and kill us he would have done so by now. Having daddy issues aren’t you?” he mocked._

_Bular snarled, “So what? Father may have gone basically mad and if he succeeds in_ _bringing the eternal night everyone will be doomed, but he is still my father and I’m still a Gumm-Gumm.” Even to himself that sounded pathetic._

_Stricklander hummed, his eyebrows furrowing, “I too was once a Gumm-Gumm, and so was Aarghaumont. If you are not ready to change sides at least consider a truce, we both want the world to stay as it is.”_

_Bular sniffed the air suspiciously, unsure if the ex-Warlord was pulling his tail or using Persuasion on him. “You can’t be Stricklander, why would you just give up on all your goals? Let my father lose his sanity in the Darklands, thinking you dead!” he fumed, thrusting his face into Stricklander’s with an enraged huff._

_“Leave him alone, I’m the reason he didn’t try and save Gunmar or find you.” Douxie said, lifting his chin in challenge._

_Bular raised his brows, “_ You? _You’re just a boy, Stricklander could have snapped your neck like a twig if he had wanted to.”_

_Stricklander glanced around uneasily, “Stop using that name, if one of Gunmar’s changelings were to overhear us we would be dragged into his mess and I want nothing to do with it.”_

_Bular grinded his tusks together, “_ Stricklander _. The Stricklander I knew would not have become so weak, so complacent, so..._ human _.” Something dangerous flared in Stricklander’s eyes, making his pupils contract and elongate ever so slightly, “What did you call me?” he hissed, jaw clenched tightly._

_Bular sneered, “What, weak or human?” Stricklander seemed moments away from attacking him and Bular grimly awaited it._

_Douxie however interjected, unfortunately; “Strickler, calm down-,”_

_“He called me weak! And a fleshbag!” Stricklander seethed._

_Bular smirked, “But you are. And I want to know why you would just lurk around with this follower of Merlin and his pet dragon when you could have found me and helped get father out, you could have changed everything!”_

_Stricklander sighed, looking more weary than Bular had ever seen, idly playing with the silver chain around his neck, “Because I didn’t want to, for so long I was at war with everyone, even myself, so is it so hard to believe that I wanted a way of living without being on guard, for betrayals and deceit and fighting? And away from deaths! If you lived to even half my age you_ _would understand why I am not thrilled with the prospect of another war.”_

_Bular_ could _understand. That was the problem. And he hated Stricklander all the more for feeling that way._

_Douxie gave the ex-Warlord an exasperated stare, “Then what do you call the garden and river troll feuds? Or the hundred year’s war, or-,”_

_“Alright! So I may like causing unnecessary fights now and again, that is completely different!”_

_Bular’s eyes widened, “You started it? I thought the feud was the work of a trickster troll.”_

_Stricklander smiled sheepishly, not an expression Bular would have thought to have seen on the once fierce Spellcaster, “I may have had some help. Douxie flatly refused to get involved.”_

_“For good reason!” the boy interjected._

_Bular and Stricklander ignored him, “I heard about that fleshbag war from some changelings, something to do with who would rule a country near England, right?”_

_Stricklander almost looked impressed, “Yes, between the house of Plantagenet and Lancaster against the house of Valois, it lasted 116 years, one of my finer works.” He boasted, despite Douxie’s impressively fierce glare._

_“How did you do it?” Bular asked, fascinated._

_“Impersonation mainly, to keep things_ _entertaining, it was very easy, humans are all quite similar after all. I don’t think they could even tell the difference.”_

_Douxie groaned, “Ok, we get it, now can you please stop talking. Listen Bular, we can call a truce, if you agree to help us delay Gunmar getting his army back and if you give up eating humans. My duty is to protect humanity and that’s why I can’t side with a Gumm-Gumm who still does that. I won’t.”_

_“Admirable resolve fleshbag, but I can’t stop eating human’s completely.” Bular huffed._

_“Why not?” Douxie challenged, crossing his arms._

_Stricklander answered, surprisingly, “Because without a heartstone_ _human flesh is the next best thing, something about the composition of a human makes it more sustaining than any other prey, a substitute if you will. If Bular stopped eating human’s completely he would eventually die, unless brought in the presence of a heartstone.”_

_Douxie looked confused, intrigued and suspicious all at once, “Hold on, then how were you alright not eating human’s before the whole, Merlin-stabbed-you-in-the-back deal?”_

_Stricklander sighed, “My magic sustained me, I ate animals and my magic would covert a percentage of that energy into what was needed to keep me alive.”_

_“Ah.” Douxie said, in a way that implied he didn’t understand what on earth Stricklander was talking about. The once troll clapped his hands together abruptly, “Alright, how about a compromise? Bular only eats enough human flesh to be sustained, away from Arcadia and only who we deem worth being eaten by you.” Douxie looked like he might still argue against that statement but Stricklander tutted, “We could use his help.”_

_Bular wondered if it wasn’t too late to try and kill them both. But he knew that would be incredibly foolish, Stricklander may be a squashy human now, but he was still powerful, and as was his pet Wizard, together they were more than enough to kill him._

_And the conditions they had set were agreeable. It wouldn’t do well to challenge their offer for a truce, he could ignore it, pretend he never ran into this odd group of misfits. But bitter disappointment, spite and_ _boredom made him say; “Fine. I’ll join your little group. Might actually be more interesting now that you’re a fleshbag and seem to have found a sense of humour, Stricklander.”_

_Stricklander stared at him, both surprised and irritated, “Was that a complement?”_

_Bular shrugged, “Maybe. People change, you’d know that more than anyone...”_

Bular blinked himself back into the present, shaking the memories away, night had come, it was time to go. He had screwed up everything now. The amulet would most likely have chosen a weaker champion, and Stricklander, despite becoming more and more comfortable being a fleshbag, would still want to fry him in the sun for pushing Kanjigar enough for him to rather die than give the amulet up.

Glumly, Bular crawled out of the sewers and plodded towards the block of flats near the forest that Stricklander and Douxie lived in. Mercifully the apartment they shared was on the ground floor. Unfortunately Archie was waiting outside for him, a smug smile on his face. “One day I _will_ eat you.” Bular grumped.

Archie ignored him and said gleefully, “Get ready to be blown into the next universe my prince, Stricklander is _spitting_ mad.” Bular grounded his fists into the earth below him and stalked past Archie, who purred in amusement before following him to the magically modified window, which allowed Bular to easily fit through the deceptively small frame. He rapped his knuckles on the glass.

Immediately Douxie appeared, unlocking the window looking incredibly pissed off. “Look it wasn’t-,”

“Nope, not hearing it. Stricklander wants to have a word with you.” Bular hunched his shoulders and squeezed his bulk inside, his horns rasping against the wooden window frame. He shook himself, mane bristling, he _hated_ magic.

Zoe was sitting on the couch with a bored expression on her face, chewing gum, while Stricklander paced in front of her, crackling flames surrounding his form from head to toe. Just the sight of the hellish gold and green flames made Bular’s heart thump harder. He wasn’t one to feel fear, but at that moment he was _terrified_.

As usual, the ex-troll was dressed impeccably, years of living part time with the Wizards meant Bular could easily identify what he was wearing, and have a name for the ridiculous hairstyle he spent so much time preening over. Even it’s name was awful, _pompadour_ , for a pompous prick.

Stricklander wore straight cut, black jeans, a smokey blue-grey turtleneck and a deep brown leather jacket that was currently singed at the edges from the flames rising from Stricklander’s fleshy skin, his eyes glowing almost yellow, almost like his real eyes. That did little to ease Bular’s feeling of trepidation, he nervously shuffled back, “Stricklander, it wasn’t-,”

“You ignominious, idiotically stupid, pathetic, _fool!_ What have you done?!” Stricklander snarled, coming towards him with murder in his eyes.

Bular stood firm, “I didn’t kill Kanjigar! He jumped off the bridge, what was I to do? Jump after him?!”

“Maybe you should have. You pushed him too far this time, this is _all_ on you if Gumm-Gumm’s overrun Trollmarket.”

“Who did the amulet choose? Draal?” Bular asked.

“NO. No, it bloody _didn’t_ choose that massive, blue idiot. It chose a flesh-, a _human_ whelp! One of _my_ human whelps!” Stricklander snarled, the flames surrounding him spitting angrily.

Bular laughed incredulously, “It didn’t.”

Stricklander poked him in the chest with a finger as sharp as any claw, “I saw the amulet in his satchel, glowing merrily in my face, he’ll be easy to get alone, be overwhelmed and forced to open the bridge by Usurna or some changeling.”

Bular glanced at Douxie, pleading for help, the Wizard shrugged with a smirk. Oh well. “You seem really wound up about this, did the amulet pick your favourite? That weedy one you call ‘Young Atlas’ perhaps?” he sneered, knowing full well he was goading Stricklander a little too far.

Fury overtook the ex-Warlord’s features, just before Bular was slammed into the wall by a powerful blast of white hot magic, that cut painfully at his stone. Bular groaned, “I must be right then.” He rasped out.

He grunted as Stricklander sent a shard of green magic into the air and formed it into a dagger, making it press just under his chin. He squirmed as Stricklander leaned closer to him, “I alone call the boy that, not you, _me_.”

Bular curled his upper lip, “He won’t survive a day. You know as well as I that the moment Usurna finds out about this _mistake,_ it’s over. My father will be able to get to the heartstone, devour it and find Morgana, bringing the end of the world as we know it. Unless we do something about it.”

Stricklander blinked, his eyes returning to a soft green, he withdrew his blade of magic from Bular’s neck. “Unless we do something.” Stricklander repeated, half to himself.

Zoe sighed from behind them, “Guys, I know you love each other but can you please sit the hell down so we can discuss things civilly.”

Bular and Stricklander sat on opposite sides of the beaten up couch in the living room. Well Stricklander sat on the arm of the couch and Bular next to it. With his bulk the poor couch would break into pieces. He knew from experience.

Zoe stayed exactly where she was as Douxie came and snuggled next to her, draping an arm around her shoulders, quickly followed by Archie, who flew into Stricklander’s still slightly smoking lap.

The look of smouldering anger on his face softened, dousing the last few sparks of flame from around his body as he gently stroked the familiar. Somehow the once troll had formed a close friendship with the cat dragon, Bular didn’t understand how it was possible for such a bond to exist between two vastly different beings, but it existed all the same.

Personally Bular thought Archie was providing Stricklander with therapy. He was probably the most traumatised troll to ever have lived.

Douxie smiled with forced cheer, “Right! So the amulet chose a human kid, what are we supposed to do about it?”

Bular snorted, “Killing Usurna would solve most of our problems.”

Stricklander laughed sarcastically, “Oh yes, brilliant idea Bular, let’s murder a member of the Tribunal, your father would almost immediately find out your little secret and Trollmarket would want you dead even more than they already do, after you killed Kanjigar.”

“I didn’t-,” Bular growled but Stricklander interrupted him, “You did in the eyes of Trollmarket and the Gumm-Gumm’s, Gunmar will send you out to kill Jim and expect you to succeed, if not you then Kodanth will send that abomination to play around with him.”

Douxie shuddered, “But the ring is what controls him, so unless Gunmar explicitly demands Kodanth to set him on Jim I don’t think that changeling will risk it.”

Stricklander groaned, rubbing his cheek, “So unless we can get inside Trollmarket the whole world is doomed. I think we should move towns.”

Douxie glared at him and then his eyes brightened with an idea, “Hang on, let’s not be so hasty. Jim’s not going to want to do this alone, and he knows and trusts Strickler... So you’d be able to get inside Trollmarket! No one would recognise you and you’ll be able to keep Jim from being killed!”

Stricklander looked doubtful. “That’s a _terrible_ plan. How could I justify my presence to Jim, tagging along like that bloated shadow of his."

Bular snorted before declaring, “I have an idea. What if I pretended to attack the whelp and you just ‘happened’ to be passing, we could set it up so you could have an opportunity to ‘save’ him from me, thus gaining more trust and respect. As well as getting into the troll city right under that fool Vendel’s nose.”

There was silence for a second and then Stricklander said slowly, “That’s not a bad idea at all. You’ve obviously been paying attention to how changelings work.”

Bular curled his tail closer to his body and puffed his chest up, “I’m not as stupid as I look, I do pay attention.” He said smugly.

Douxie, as was expected, looked horrified, “No, that’s _not_ happening! You’re going to lie to his face and make him feel like he’s actually in danger of dying, _how_ is that a good plan?!”

Stricklander sighed, absently scratching Archie between the ears, the cat dragon purred but otherwise kept his eyes shut, “Douxie, it’s a perfectly fine plan, it will get me into Trollmarket without arousing suspicion, just like you wanted. Jim is far too trusting to believe it’s a set up, and I may have an idea for keeping a even closer watch on him...”

Zoe side eyed him, the bored expression on her face replaced with a suspicious one, “This better not be anything to do with his mom.”

Stricklander gave her a lazy smirk, “It’s the best way to get more information about Jim, as a concerned teacher of course, and if he decides to do something...ill advised, I have a way to persuade his mother to make things difficult for him.”

Bular laughed with glee, “You’re going to try and seduce the fleshbags mother?”

“But of course. It shouldn’t be much of a challenge, she’s only human and I don’t think a single, hardworking, divorcee gets much attention in the romantic department and my looks are attractive by human standards. If it turns out to be a worthless endeavour I will simply end it and leave her non the wiser about my true intentions.” Stricklander shrugged.

Bular thought it was perfectly reasonable, Stricklander wasn’t human, he wouldn’t ever be able to form a deep attachment with a fleshbag in a romantic way. Yet Zoe took his words as if they were addressed to her and stood up, arms shaking with anger, pinning the smiling ex-Warlord with a glare as sharp as ice, “Okay, Douxie and Bular’s ideas were actually acceptable but you can’t really think manipulating Jim’s mom like that is alright! It’s just... _wrong!_ ”

Stricklander rolled his eyes and Archie, now awake, dug his claws into his legs, “You know she’s right Strickler.” The cat reprimanded him gravely. Stricklander waved him off airily, “Come now, I have done it before for far less, it has never had any lasting impact on the human women I have been with.”

“That’s because you’ve never been in love you _idiot_!” Zoe exclaimed, a fast zap of pink electricity winding up her arms.

Stricklander did not appear fazed by Zoe’s outburst in the slightest, “It’s hardly any fault of mine I have not found the right person, and I guarantee you, it will not be some _fleshbag_ woman.”

Zoe growled and took a step towards him, “Guess what? You don’t chose who you fall in love with, and trust me when you fall, you fall _hard_.” And with that she stormed out of the room, Douxie and Archie hot on her heels.

Bular sighed and glanced at Stricklander, he looked...sad. “She’s wrong. I won’t fall in love with anyone, if they found out what and who I was...” he shook his head, staring down at his hands.

Bular huffed softly, “Hey. That’s not true. Me, the Wizard, Witch and cat stick around, even if you’re, as the humans say, a massive dick.”

Stricklander smiled faintly, “I suppose things could be worse. Thank you Bular.” He was genuine, something incredibly rare Bular almost never got to see.

It didn’t last.

“But don’t think for an _instant_ I won’t find a way to punish you properly for your failure.”

Bular growled, “Bring it on. Tomorrow night you’ll get your chance...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up... We get to see things from Jim's perspective, yay! And find out if Bular's plan actually works...


	5. Not Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim didn't expect to be hunted down by Bular so quickly. He also didn't expect his History teacher to get involved. But life is full of unexpected surprises and mysteries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!   
> It's been a while, but I'm back with another chapter! Yay me, just before I get to go back to sixth form... Which I'm not looking forward to at all to be honest lol.  
>  As always hope you enjoy and I appreciate all you guys with your feedback, it's much appreciated!  
> All credit for lines taken directly from Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia belongs to DreamWorks.

“So Jimbo, excited to begin your warrior training?” Toby announced from his bike, shooting Jim a metal filled smile. Jim groaned at the unwelcome reminder and almost hit his head against the handlebars of his bike.

Yesterday had been _wild_. First finding out from the two trolls, Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, that he had been chosen to be some mythical protector of trolls and humans alike and then having to hide from his mom, who almost discovered his new ‘sacred obligation’. And then of course the whole deal just today of trying out for the role of Romeo in the auditions for the school play, unbelievably while in his Trollhunter armour. But the best part was, his long time crush, _Claire Nuñez,_ had been impressed!

But he had mixed feelings about Blinky and Aaarrrgghh coming to his house tonight to begin his training, if he had a word to describe his feelings it would be _apprehensive_. Because Gunmar was out there, waiting for the best moment to strike, and from the little Blinky had told him, this guy sounded _terrifying_. The only good news was he hadn’t been seen in decades, clearly Gunmar wasn’t too keen on being seen and preferred to keep a low profile. But his son Bular was very active. He had after all killed the previous Trollhunter, who had been one of the greatest to have ever lived according to Blinky. Not terribly encouraging if you asked him.

For now there was little danger, he and Toby were peddling down main street and he doubted Bular would be so eager to hunt him down so soon. “Yeah, I guess.” Jim answered his best friend, his hands clenching slightly around his bike’s handlebars, “But I don’t know Tobes, this seems like too much of an adventure for me. We could _die_. That’s not something I planned on doing anytime soon.”

Toby shrugged, waving one hand quickly around the empty street and then grabbing hold of his handlebars, his bike wavering drunkenly at the shift in balance, “Dude, you did ask for it. I mean seriously, what can actually go wrong?” A loud booming roar answered him and both of them paled. Toby laughed uncomfortably, “That was probably the construction workers.”

“I really don’t think so!” Jim gasped as with heavy, thudding footsteps a humongous black troll lurched into view.

He was a huge shadow of black muscle, almost as big as Aaarrrgghh, with brilliant red and gold eyes and a bristly mane that was standing on end. His horns curved around his face, as jagged as his tusks, which were bared in a terrifying grin. “Trollhunter. Merlin’s _grand_ champion, my father’s bane.” He snorted, “ _Pathetic_.”

Jim felt frozen in place, this could not be happening! When neither of them moved Bular roared and Jim felt it vibrate through his bones, it was enough to spur him into action, he peddled like mad, hearing Toby’s panting breath following him and behind his best friend the ominous thud of Bular’s feet. He was scarily close.

Jim thought frantically how he could avoid being killed. And then he recognised the street in a burst of clarity, glancing behind him he yelled at Toby, “Head down Delancy, behind Stuart’s Electronics!”

Toby’s face fell in dismay, “You know I can’t fit down there!” he wailed.

“You can!” Jim shouted as Bular bellowed from behind them. Jim turned his bike and shot down the narrow alley, it was a tight fit, even for him, but he managed. Toby however got stuck halfway. “Gah! I knew this would happen! Jim, I can’t fit! HELP!” Jim sighed, about to head back and save Toby, but Bular reaching a claw through the alleyway and almost snagging Toby by the sweater was enough for him to, in one last effort to escape, peddle for all he was worth... And pop out next to Jim on the other side.

“Oh my God! I-I did it! I’m alive!” Toby hugged Jim tightly and he gladly returned the embrace, both of them jumping a little at Bular’s roar of outrage, that seemed a little... Forced? It didn’t sound as if the dark troll was really mad, and he didn’t even attempt to try and get to them, Bular just gave up. But then again why would a troll of that size try? All the streets around here were far too narrow.

Toby untangled from Jim and got back on his bike, “We’re not making a habit of this, are we?” he asked. Jim shook his head miserably as he swung himself back onto his own bike, “I think this is going to happen a LOT. And it’s going to get old _real_ fast.” He muttered.

The stupid amulet must have been broken. He had been incanting like mad in his head throughout their little run in with death, willing the amulet to work, to no avail. He supposed that was fine for now, he and Toby were just shy of their neighbourhood, they were taking a quick break to catch their breath, bikes left on the floor. Toby had gone a deep shade of red and was crouching on the pavement, hands on his knees, wheezing. “Jim-look at me, I’m still alive right?”

Before Jim could muster any sort of response the bushes beside them rustled. Jim tensed, had Bular really beaten them here? Because he was _so_ not ready to die. He braced himself but instead of the dark troll he was greeted by a jovial, musical voice, “Master Jim!” and that was followed by a familiar six eyed trolls head, a relieved smile on his face. Jim sagged in relief, “Blinky! We almost got eaten alive by Bular!”

Blinky beamed from ear to ear, “Marvellous! And you’re still alive! I knew you had potential!” There was a soft snort and Aaarrrgghh lowered the bushes that had unsuccessfully hidden his face from view, “Very impressive.” The mossy troll agreed. Jim was seriously wondering if these two trolls could actually help him in any way.

Toby pointed an accusing finger at Blinky, “You have a sweet voice, but it brings death with you! Why does Jim have to deal with this alone? Can’t you two fight?”

For the first time Blinky looked almost ashamed, “Alas, I do not fight and my friend here is a-,”

“Pacifist.” Aaarrrgghh rumbled with a shrug.

“Man, what a waste of a great, hulking brute.” Toby said with a small shake of his head.

“Thank you.” Aaarrrgghh replied.

Jim groaned, “Great! Just great! I’m going to die. And I never got to-,” he broke off, squinting down the more or less empty street and making out a figure striding towards them, “Is that- who I think it is?” Jim said, dumbstruck.

Toby blinked in surprise, “Well, what do you know, it is. Although what’s he doing here? Doesn’t he live in his office?” Blinky craned his neck in order to spot the man who was briskly approaching them, talking into his phone in annoyance.

Mr Strickler was going to see the two trolls at this rate. Jim turned to Toby, eyes wide in panic, “Toby, we can’t let him see Blinky and Aaarrrgghh! We need to get him away, especially since Bular could turn up at any moment!” Toby nodded in agreement and after asking the two anxious trolls to stay _absolutely_ still, they approached their history teacher. Hearing the last few sentences of his conversation, “-Yes, I know! Stay put, at least give me another five or six minutes-no, not another word! I’ll see you soon.” He clicked his phone off and did a double take at the presence of Jim and Toby in front of him, his eyebrows furrowing. “Mr Lake, Mr Domzalski, what on earth are you doing?” Strickler asked in bemusement.

“We could ask you the same thing Mr S.” Toby challenged bravely, hands on his hips.

Mr Strickler grimaced, ruefully brushing his lock of golden hair back with a hand, “ My... _Roommate_ left practically nothing in our fridge for tomorrow morning, I only found out when I arrived home, so I just needed some essentials from the convenience store. You two, however, should be home, why are you in the middle of the street?”

Jim and Toby exchanged panic stricken looks. Mr Strickler narrowed his eyes, “Jim? You can tell me if something is bothering you, you know that, right?” he said with soft understanding, concern pulling the corners of his mouth down.

Jim looked away, “I-I really wish I could Mr Strickler, but er, it’s a... Secret?” wow that was _really_ pathetic. He nervously fidgeted on the spot, unsure what to do with himself, if he could tell anyone about this new Trollhunting thing, other than Toby, it was Mr Strickler.

The man had always been willing to hear him out and offer advice and just... Be there. In a way his biological, deadbeat dad had completely failed to do. Even thinking of James Lake Senior left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Another plus was Mr Strickler’s lessons were _great_. He didn’t teach in the conventional way that was for sure. History lessons consisted of moving all the desks away and sitting on cushions on the floor, in a circle and discussing the topic, sometimes even doing little plays within the classroom, although that wasn’t too often, not after the king Henry VIII disaster, which was totally Steve’s fault and which he _definitely_ didn’t want to think about now.

Mr Strickler blinked, curiously tilting his head, “Is this about those trainers you mentioned yesterday? Because if they are hassling you-,”

“They’re not! I have to- I _want_ to do this.” Jim said firmly. There was a rustle of leaves from the bushes Blinky and Aaarrrgghh were hiding behind and all three of them simultaneously glanced that way. “What was that?” Mr Strickler asked, cautiously edging towards the quivering bushes.

“Oh! It was probably just the wind!” Toby declared loudly, stepping in front of the history teacher, “Absolutely nothing to see here Mr S!” Strickler easily brushed past his best friend, approaching the place were the two trolls hid. Jim hoped feverishly that they would have enough sense to remain quiet. It was a vain hope.

Aaarrrgghh sneezed and the bushes shielding him and Blinky from view were blown away. At the sight of Aaarrrgghh Mr Strickler’s eyebrows almost hit his hairline, as he took a stumbling step back from Aaarrrgghh’s looming shadow. Blinky crossed both sets of arms, “Master Jim, is the whole town going to find out about us?”

Jim glanced at his silent teacher. Mr Strickler didn’t look like he was all that surprised at the presence of the trolls, but the way he kept eying Aaarrrgghh seemed to convey at least _some_ degree of wariness. “I don’t think so Blinky. Mr Strickler? Are you alright? They won’t hurt you, they’re-,”

“Trolls.” Strickler finished for him, shakily smoothing out his leather jacket, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as he gulped, “I know about them already.” At this revelation Blinky and Aaarrrgghh exchanged startled looks and Toby gasped dramatically. Jim stared at Mr Strickler, “What!? How-when... _How_ do you know about them?” he exclaimed.

Mr Strickler shrugged casually, “I know many things, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Young Atlas. I also know, for example, that the amulet of Merlin has chosen you as it’s champion and these two _trolls_ are supposed to train you. A Galadrigal who can’t tell one end of a sword from the other and an ex-Gumm-Gumm general. Merlin _must_ want you dead.”

There was a speechless moment of absolute, jaws hanging open, silence and then Toby said faintly, “Gumm-Gumm?” Blinky opened his mouth, about to say something, and based on his irritated frown it wasn’t going to be anything nice, but Strickler was too quick. “Bringers of slow, thoroughly calculated, death, Gunmar’s ilk. Although I believe Aaarrrgghh renounced his Gumm-Gumm ways several centuries ago.” Mr Strickler finished.

Blinky finally said what was on his mind, “You had no right telling the boys that! We would have told young Master Jim and Tobias in due time!” the four armed troll cried out in outrage.

Jim was honestly feeling a little overwhelmed from all this new information.

And suddenly understood Strickler’s wariness of the mossy troll. Aaarrrgghh lowered his head in shame, “True, Blinky. Was bad. Took long time to be good. Am sorry.”

Mr Strickler hesitantly came closer and touched the giant troll on his shoulder sympathetically, “I know. _I’m_ sorry, your friend is right, I didn’t have any right sharing that information, but they would have found out eventually.” Mr Strickler backed away slightly and turned to Jim and Toby, “Aaarrrgghh is the most loyal troll I’ve m _-heard_ of, we can trust him.”

Jim nodded, “I’m not judging someone for their past actions, it’s what you do now that matters. And I would be honoured to get to know you better. _Both_ of you.” Blinky relaxed somewhat at that and a peculiar expression of gratitude briefly lit up in Mr Strickler’s eyes.

Aaarrrgghh nudged him gently and Strickler grinned at the hulking troll, before rubbing his shoulder with a small wince.

“Mr Strickler, I hope I’m not being rude, but seriously, how do you know all this?” Jim couldn’t help but ask. Mr Strickler’s grin slipped and for a moment something shifted in his gaze. Something _ancient_. And then it was gone and his teacher was back, a easy smile on his lips. “I happen to have encountered many different mythical creatures in my life. You aren’t the only one with... _magical_ secrets.” He lifted one hand and snapped his fingers. Immediately bright green and gold flames leapt around his hand, crackling with heat.

Blinky gasped softly, “By Deya’s grace! A magician!”

Aaarrrgghh’s mouth dropped open, “Magic _very_ good.”

Toby’s eyes gleamed and he bounced up and down in excitement, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! So fricking awesome! You’re a Wizard! Our history teacher is a _Wizard!”_

Jim could not believe this. He was okay with the fact magic existed and trolls lived beneath their town and that he was their protector now. He was also okay with Mr Strickler being aware of the existence of trolls. But actually being able to do magic? That was hard to get his head around. “This is really real?” he eventually said, eyes wide.

Strickler nodded and moved his hand closer to Jim, opening and closing it to show him it wasn’t a clever trick. “Can-can I touch it?” Jim asked in awe. Excitement rapidly overtaking his doubt as it finally sunk in that his teacher was a _Wizard_.

Mr Strickler smiled, “Of course.” Jim did so eagerly, it was warm, sure, but it didn’t hurt, it almost tickled. “Whoa, this is so cool! You can help me with my Trollhunting! I mean, you can if you want to. _Do_ you want to?” Jim asked anxiously.

Mr Strickler chuckled, allowing the flames to die down, “I do. Trust me, nothing would make me happier.”

Blinky chose that moment to interject, “Now hold on just a second! He is not a troll! Master Jim needs the guidance of someone well versed in troll customs, history and fighting styles! No offense, but you are still human you can’t hope to comprehend what being a troll is about!” Mr Strickler glared at Blinky heatedly but luckily before they could start arguing in earnest Aaarrrgghh hummed and gently patted Strickler on the head, “Like him. Can I keep?”

Toby shook his head, “Dude. I think Jim got there first.”

“That’s _so_ not true!” Jim protested at the pleased expression on Mr Strickler’s face.

“Are any of you even listening to me?” Blinky huffed in irritation, ears twitching.

“Oh sorry Blinky, what did you say?” Jim asked in embarrassment.

The blue troll sighed in exasperation, “Never mind. If you trust this Wizard I suppose it’s fine.”

“Sorcerer actually.” Mr Strickler corrected gently.

“What’s the difference?” Jim questioned, curious. Strickler immediately slid into the role of teacher as he explained, “Sorcerers are more adapt at magic. We’re considered natural spell casters, while Wizards have to learn the majority of their craft from books and years of studying, sometimes _decades_. And they require a magical anchor to channel their power, usually a staff, or a wand or bracelet. _I_ can cast magical energy out of thin air.” He finished with a somewhat haughty sniff.

Toby’s eyes filled with wonder, “So awesome.” He said with feeling. Jim nodded in agreement, struck momentarily silent by awe. “I’m guessing it’s offensive calling you a wizard then.” Jim finally managed to say.

Mr Strickler sighed, “It is rather irksome but it’s understandable, most people don’t know the difference.”

Blinky harrumphed disapprovingly, “Really, we must get going! We have no time for this, Bular is-,”

A rough snarl interrupted him and they all stiffened as a black shadow tore itself free from the darkness surrounding the deserted street. Bular grinned in triumph, “Here.” The dark troll finished for Blinky, who gulped in terror. Jim wasn’t sure, but he was almost certain Strickler _rolled_ his eyes.

“Oh _crap_. We need to run!” Toby yelped as Bular tensed, ready to leap into action.

Aaarrrgghh snorted and offered to Toby and Mr Strickler; “Can ride on my back.”

As Jim rushed to get on his bike, in his peripherals he noticed in relief Toby, with minimal hesitation, clamber on to Aaarrrgghh. Strickler crossed his arms, “Absolutely no-,” Aaarrrgghh grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket and hefted him onto his mossy back with Toby.

Strickler looked equally horrified and bemused as he grabbed fistfuls of the mossy giants fur, just before Aaarrrgghh loped away, Blinky and Jim hot on his tail.

Jim hazarded a look back over his shoulder, Bular was following them, his lips twitching as if fighting the urge to- _laugh?_ Jim paid it no mind and peddled faster.

At least until the canals, when he had the misfortune to run his bike over a tangle of roots and was flung off, unceremoniously landing on his butt on the ground, scrambling up as Bular blocked his escape, a sneer curling around his tusks as he lowered his head to Jim’s level and huffed, “I am going to enjoy killing two Trollhunters in as many days.”

He reared up and Jim closed his eyes, _for the_ _glory of Merlin_...A bright, almost white, light suffused everything around him and Jim’s eyes snapped open, _Daylight is mine to command._

As his eyes adjusted he could faintly feel a hand on his shoulder, he turned to see Mr Strickler beside him, pulses of golden light expanding from his body, it had sent Bular crashing back to all fours, but it didn’t stop him for long.

With a snarl he tried to attack Jim but with a wave of his hand Strickler sent a torrent of green spears made of light at Bular, who yelped in pain, cowering away with one arm raised up to shield his face. Jim exhaled in amazement, “I’m _really_ glad you’re on our side.”

Strickler smiled, his eyes glowing a faint yellow and then they widened in surprise, “Jim... your armour!” Jim looked down. Yep, the amulet had decided to work and given him the silver and blue Trollhunter armour, and it was still weird as _hell_ being like some medieval knight from Arthurian legend.

Unfortunately, the moment of distraction cost Mr Strickler as Bular managed to lash out and pierce his claws into Strickler’s arm, breaking his concentration and sending him crashing to the ground with a stifled groan of pain, “You’ll pay for that.” He hissed, clutching his injured limb, blood welling from the gash.

Bular snorted and unsheathed one of his swords from his back, “I tire of this, my father needs the Trollhunter.”

Jim watched in slow motion as the giant sword came swinging down, watching as Strickler sat up, flames rising from all over his body and the shadow of wings spilling across the floor. A leaf fell slowly in front of him and Jim felt himself relax in sudden calm. He was born for this.

The sword of Daylight manifested in his hands, the silvery metal shining as if aflame. With a defiant cry he blocked Bular’s sword swing, managing to push the dark troll back ever so slightly. The Gumm-Gumm’s eyes widened, “Not bad. I see why you like him. It’s a shame he won’t survive.”

Jim shot his teacher a confused look. What was Bular talking about? And why did he sound impressed about him? What was going on? Mr Strickler shook his head, and said with clear exhaustion, “Enough. We’re leaving.” Jim wasn’t sure if that was addressed to him or Bular.

“Wha-,” he began, but the ground dropping away from beneath his feet stole his voice away as Jim was momentarily engulfed in a cool, black nothingness, a void of darkness that pressed in on him from all sides. He gasped, fighting for breath...

And then it was over. Jim blinked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief, because he and Mr Strickler were no longer standing near the edge of the canal.

They were right under Arcadia bridge, next to the gradually opening portal in the concrete wall, Bular left _far_ behind them. “How did you do that?” Jim breathed shakily, the armour glowing brightly as it reacted to his distress.

“A sorcerer never reveals their secrets.” Mr Strickler answered annoyingly as Toby poked his head out of the widening portal, “Jim! Mr S! Quick, get in!” They were not a moment too soon.

Just as Jim and Strickler came inside and the portal sealed behind him, Bular reached them, leaving him to slam his first against the wall in frustration and then-silence. Jim felt nothing but relief that he and Strickler had escaped, never mind how it was possible. Or that Bular wasn’t at all what he had expected.

“We almost died!” Jim exploded.

Blinky grinned in delight, “A key word almost, a life of almost is a life of never!” he declared.

“Then I for one _never_ want to do that again.” Strickler quipped, sagging against the cool rock of the cave they appeared to be in. The gash in his arm was still trickling with blood but thankfully it didn’t look too deep. Still, he wanted to make sure his teacher was actually alright, which was why he asked; “How’s your arm? It’s only a superficial wound, right?”

Mr Strickler looked surprised at his worry, but he still nodded, “Its fine, I’m more annoyed that idiotic brute ruined my leather jacket, it cost good money.” He grumped.

Blinky narrowed his six eyes suspiciously, “What do you know of Bular?”

“Not a lot. I’ve had a few run-ins with him over the years, nothing more. And yes, my wound is only superficial Jim. Thank you for asking.” He added, clearly noticing Jim’s anxious look. His tense shoulders relaxed and the armour vanished with a flash of light, the amulet thunking heavily in his hands.

Jim clutched the amulet tightly, “What just happened? Why did it go?” he asked, if the amulet was going to be this unreliable how could he ever predict when it would actually work? Aaarrrgghh lumbered forward and gently poked him in the chest, right above his heart, out of the corner of his eye Jim saw Strickler tense, his eyes glowing with an almost feral gleam. Jim put it to his overworking imagination.

“React to emotions. And danger. Learn to control in time.” The mossy giant rumbled in reassurance. Blinky nodded in agreement, “He is correct, Master Jim, also, there has never been a human Trollhunter, we would expect it to work in ways never before seen. And that is why it is imperative to make haste and begin your training, Vendel, our market elder, might be able to offer us some helpful insight.”

Strickler snorted, “Or kick us out. I doubt the presence of humans in Trollmarket will be appreciated, your embellished words can’t fool me, _Blinkous_.” Blinky looked momentarily stunned, and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, unable to say anything.

Toby sniggered, “ _Blinkous_? That’s seriously your name?”

The six eyed troll sighed, “Yes, yes, I know, I have a horrible name. But that’s besides the point, the other trolls may not want humans in the market but I am sure they will warm up to the boy in due time.”

Mr Strickler stared at Blinky incredulously, “You are _far_ too optimistic, I don’t want my student to be mauled alive by those _idiots_.”

Jim kind of zoned out of the conversation after that, he knew with certainty that Mr Strickler and Blinky would be getting into arguments on a regular basis. Although it was nice to see his teacher and new mentor cared about him enough to start an argument on just how safe he would be in Trollmarket.

It felt unbelievably good having the knowledge that his favourite teacher was going to be backing him up throughout this Trollhunting thing. With his badass magical powers. He seriously would never have thought his supposedly normal history teacher would be hiding such an incredible secret. It made him wonder what else was out there...

Toby nudged him, “Jim? You there? You’re doing the drifting off thing again.”

Jim turned to his best friend in embarrassment, “Oh, sorry.” He whispered before turning to the still arguing Strickler and Blinky, who were almost standing nose to nose with each other and said in exasperation, “Guys, come on! We need to get along if we’re going to be seeing each other regularly.”

Aaarrrgghh hummed in agreement, “No fighting.” And he tugged Blinky back a bit, the blue troll grumbled, “He started it, telling me about the trolls I’ve known for centuries! What do you know about trolls other than what you’ve read!?”

Mr Strickler laughed, but it sounded _wrong_ , like someone who knew something the others didn't and was enjoying their cluelessness. “I know considerably more than you think and I’m afraid once you’ve met a few trolls like the ones you associate with, you’ve practically met them all. Tell me, how do you think Draal is going to react to a human Trollhunter?”

Immediately Blinky lowered his head, ears drooping, “You-are right. But we do have to go down there, like it or not.”

Jim frowned, looking between Strickler and Blinky, “Wait, so this Draal guy is a problem? I haven’t even done anything to him!” he protested. Mr Strickler pressed his lips tightly together and didn’t say anything, so with a sigh Blinky answered, “Draal is the son of the past Trollhunter, he has been training all his life for the honour of being chosen as the amulets next champion. He may challenge you upon realising the amulet chose a human.”

_Great_. Jim thought, _this day keeps getting better and better._ He gestured to the dark passage ahead of them wearily, “Then let’s get this over with.”

They started down a glowing, blue crystal staircase, he and Toby with wide eyes and mouths hanging slack, excitement making them chatter uncontrollably. Mr Strickler was silent, but his eyes betrayed his impatient eagerness and when they finally reached the bottom of the staircase all three of them gasped.

It was like something out of a fairy tale. A huge, golden, softly glowing geode met their eyes, nestled in the centre of the massive underground cavern they found themselves in, sending light in all directions. And milling about were trolls of all shapes and sizes and colours.

Some with clawed feet, others with hooves, some horned, others sporting long, elven like ears. It was astounding. Strickler looked dazed, captivated by the huge golden geode, “I never thought I would see this for myself.” He breathed in star struck awe.

Blinky beamed with pride, “Welcome to Heartstone Trollmarket.”

In a daze they followed the two trolls down into the marketplace, trolls doing double takes as they passed by, mutters of, _“Fleshbags in Trollmarket!” “What are they doing here?”_ and “ _Vendel isn’t going to like this!”_ In abundance.

Strickler’s hands balled into fists, weak flickers of flame escaping from in-between his fingers. “Hey.” Jim said softly, Strickler glanced down at him, worry and fear showing in the depths of his evergreen eyes, “Its going to be okay. I mean Blinky did say I’m supposed to protect these trolls, I don’t think-,”

He was interrupted by a furious roar and a massive, spiky blue troll with a rack of horns stormed into view, his eyes pinning on to Jim, Toby and Mr Strickler, “Humans in Trollmarket! How dare you sully Trollmarket with your disgusting presence!” he boomed and thudded towards Jim.

With a crackle of blue light the amulet summoned the armour around Jim once more, eliciting shocked gasps from the trolls around them and an enraged roar from the spiky troll. “ _Impossible_.The amulet was supposed to be mine!” Jim stiffened, oh great, this must be the Draal guy Blinky and Strickler had been talking about. Just his luck.

Draal stooped to his level and snarled in his face, before raising a first, ready to send him flying across the marketplace. Jim braced himself, but nothing happened.

Because Strickler had, with unbelievable strength, caught Draal’s fist, moments from connecting with Jim’s chest plate, flames of deep gold and emerald rising in waves from his body. There were more shocked gasps from the crowd of trolls and Draal tried to leap away, yet Strickler held him in place long enough to say, “I _don’t_ want you anywhere near this boy, do you understand?”

Draal tugged himself free, eyes narrowed in barely controlled fury, “Yes.” He bit out before swinging his head at Jim, “But _you_ won’t always have a Wizard to protect you, _Trollhunter_. This is not over.” And with that he backed away, swallowed by the crowd within seconds.

And Jim remembered to breathe. “Thanks, I owe you one.” He panted out. Strickler visibly relaxed , the flames around his form vanishing in a puff of smoke, “Don’t mention it, Young Atlas. Although he will be back I’m afraid, and I may not be there to protect you, as Draal pointed out.”

Jim audibly gulped. He had _so_ much to look forward to.

His introduction to Trollhunting left much to be desired for, with the threats of Bular, Gunmar and Draal already heaped upon his shoulders. At least he had his new troll friends, as well as Toby and Mr Strickler, to help him.

Although he couldn’t help but feel Strickler was still hiding something, something _big_...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Jim is going to remain confused for a reeeallly long time, but he isn't nearly as naïve as Strickler thinks.   
> Also Bular and Strickler may have gone a little overboard with the 'acting,' and are both almost as dramatic as each other.  
> Also special shout-out to @YokuImmobylen for some fantastic fan art from the first chapter of heart of stone, seriously, go check it out on Tumblr.  
> Till next time! We get to see Strickler POV, and the initial meeting between him and Barbara.


End file.
